Washington Under Fire of Expectations: How Ukraine, India and Israel See the Same Thing...

In early March 2026, conversations about the United States in Kyiv, New Delhi and Jerusalem unexpectedly converge on one point — the White House of Donald Trump, who is simultaneously conducting peace negotiations over Ukraine and leading a war against Iran. But behind this outward similarity lie three completely different perspectives: for Ukraine the US is an arbiter and security guarantor whose support is becoming increasingly conditional; for India it is a cynical but indispensable architect of energy and technology flows; for Israel it is the main military partner and simultaneously a domestic factor in its own politics.

The central theme shaping the agenda in all three countries is the American‑Israeli‑Iranian war, which began on 28 February 2026 with massive strikes by the US and Israel on targets in Iran and the assassination of Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. This is not just another Middle Eastern flare‑up: for Kyiv it is a risk of losing attention to Ukraine, for India it is a shock to oil markets and a complex test of balance between Washington, Moscow and Tehran, for Israel it is an existential conflict in which America is not present merely as an “ally” but as a co‑author of strategy. (ru.wikipedia.org)

The military campaign against Iran and the fear of an “endless American war” set the tone for much commentary outside the US. The Iraqi channel Al Hadath, analyzing the prospects of the conflict, stresses that Washington and Tel Aviv “are not ready for a war of attrition” and had counted on a quick operation but encountered an opponent prepared for prolonged confrontation. In the retelling by the Russian outlet InoSMI this turns into a warning: if Iran withstands the pressure, it will become a serious test not only for Trump but for the American foreign‑policy model itself, which is used to short interventions and clear end dates for operations. (inosmi.ru)

Against the backdrop of this war, the Ukrainian debate about the US looks at once anxious and pragmatic. In a column for Ukrainska Pravda, political scientist Andreas Umland, working in the Kyiv office of the European Policy Institute, spells out the main fear directly: Trump’s return, the reduction of military aid in 2025 and the current US focus on Iran “have already substantially reduced American influence” on the course of the Russo‑Ukrainian war. He warns that Washington is increasingly signaling to Kyiv: the West is ready for peace, but not for fighting until Ukraine’s victory, and there is growing temptation in the Trump administration to extract a “partial capitulation” from Kyiv in exchange for a quick deal with Moscow. (pravda.com.ua)

This assessment weaves into a broader Ukrainian conversation about what the US now demands of Kyiv. Ukrainian media extensively quote Trump’s words that he wants to end the war “within a month” and views negotiations with Russia as a “very high priority.” In the retelling by the Dialog.UA portal, Trump’s phone call to Zelensky on 25 February appears as an ultimatum — Washington is not only pushing a ceasefire according to an American plan but also making clear that the White House’s patience is limited. (dialog.ua)

Hence the painful linkage for the Ukrainian audience: the US as guarantor and the US as a source of pressure. In a Deutsche Welle piece, Trump simultaneously talks about the US having “almost limitless stocks of weapons” and contemptuously mentions that “most of this weaponry Biden foolishly gave away to Ukraine for free.” This phrase is widely cited in Russian‑ and Ukrainian‑language segments because it exposes hidden irritation: aid to Kyiv for the current administration is not an expression of strategic solidarity but a predecessor’s mistake that needs to be politically rectified. (amp.dw.com)

In Ukrainian debates particular irritation is also caused by how the US‑Israeli war against Iran interferes with the timetable for peace talks on Ukraine. After the strikes on Iran, Kyiv announced the postponement of a new round of talks with the US and Russia, which gives Moscow grounds to accuse Ukraine and Washington of sabotaging the dialogue. Russian outlets like Fontanka pick up and mirror Trump’s position: the US president is allegedly unhappy with “Zelensky’s stubbornness” and warns that Kyiv “is rapidly losing bargaining positions.” For some Ukrainian commentators this is a painful reminder that Washington sees the war not only as a matter of principle but as a space for a deal in which Ukraine is only one element. (fontanka.ru)

The Indian discussion about the US these days is organized differently: it is directly tied to oil and sanctions. The American‑Israeli strikes on Iran disrupted the Gulf’s usual energy flows, caused transport interruptions and another spike in prices. Against this background, a 30‑day “sanctions corridor” that Washington granted India for the purchase of stranded Russian oil became an important topic. An Euronews piece emphasizes that the US, on one hand, asks New Delhi to help “soften the blow” to the global market and, on the other, is effectively nudging India toward a long‑term reorientation of import flows in favor of American supplies. (ru.euronews.com)

Indian analysts, judging by retellings and commentary, see in this a typically American “double‑speak”: Washington publicly talks about a “partnership with the world’s largest democracy,” but in practice uses the Iran war and sanction pressure on Russia to lock in the growing Indian market for itself. At the same time the pragmatic wing of the establishment views this as an opportunity. Mentions of a multi‑year gas contract with American suppliers and expanded military‑technical cooperation are presented not as subordination to the US but as risk hedging: ties with Washington become for India an instrument of balancing against China and insurance against energy shocks. (vedomosti.ru)

Simultaneously some Indian commentators recall very recent episodes when the US demanded that New Delhi cut purchases of Russian oil and threatened secondary sanctions. Harsh statements by Trump toward India and Russia were then interpreted in Kyiv as a sign that Washington was losing leverage over that triangle, and in India as another illustration of American policy’s unpredictability, forcing the country to keep maximal maneuvering between the West, Moscow and regional conflicts. (gazeta.ru)

In Israel the conversation about the US is now almost entirely absorbed by the war with Iran, but overlaying that is a longer line — Trump’s personal relations with Israeli leadership and his transformation into a domestic Israeli factor. Back in 2025 Trump’s speech to the Knesset after the end of the Gaza war was presented as a “historic moment”: the American president, who played a key role in freeing Israeli hostages, spoke from the parliament’s podium while the hall was filled with red caps bearing the inscription “Trump – President of Peace.” Russian Moskovsky Komsomolets, covering this, emphasized that even traditionally critical American media had to admit a diplomatic success. (mk.ru)

This image of the “president of peace” now sharply contrasts with the reality of a large war involving the US and Israel. Israeli and regional analysts, whose assessments are widely relayed by Russian and Middle Eastern platforms, debate whether the current operation in Iran is a logical continuation of a hardline deterrence policy or a dangerous overplay that risks a protracted war and missile strikes on Israeli territory and American bases. Articles such as a geostrategic analysis on Cont.ws insist: US and Israeli command are used to a “shock and awe” campaign with rapid results, but Iranian strikes on American bases and on Cyprus signal that this war may exceed familiar bounds. (cont.ws)

A particularly sensitive point in the Israeli debate is who is actually setting the operation’s tempo: Washington or Tel Aviv. The Armenian analytical center Arvak, in its study of American policy toward Iran, notes that even before the current war Israeli elites favored a forceful solution, and Trump, however much he emphasizes “America First,” repeatedly turned out to be the one who legitimizes and covers that line. For critics in Israel this confirms an old suspicion: strategic symbiosis with the US gives the country unprecedented military power but at the same time turns it into a co‑producer of American wars, whose consequences Israelis themselves must primarily deal with. (arvak.am)

Interestingly, Ukrainian, Indian and Israeli reactions converge on one point: all three societies see the US not as a monolith but as a field of internal conflicts and political competition that directly shape foreign policy. Ukrainian experts stress that the upcoming 2026 midterm elections push Trump toward looking for “quick wins” — peace on Ukraine and a hard stance on Iran become parts of his domestic campaign. Analysts cited by RBC explicitly link the White House’s desire to shift the Iran conflict into a diplomatic phase with the risk of losing votes over a prolonged war. (amp.rbc.ru)

In Indian discussions another facet of American domestic dynamics comes to the fore — the fight over sanctions and technological restrictions on China. Reports that the Trump administration is discussing limits on shipments of Nvidia chips to Chinese companies are read in New Delhi not simply as a US‑China spat but as part of a struggle for control over the global tech supply chain, in which India seeks to position itself as a “third center of power.” Energy concessions from Washington are a temporary gesture, but a tougher sanctions architecture aimed at China and Russia will be a long‑term contour into which India must fit without losing maneuverability. (ru.euronews.com)

In Israel the key element of the American domestic scene has become Trump himself. His role in the peace agreement with Hamas and the freeing of hostages created in Israeli society a feeling that the current occupant of the White House is not simply an ally but in some sense “our politician,” someone who can speak in terms Israelis understand: strength and security. This image noticeably softens traditional worries about dependence on the US: when an American president acquires the title “president of peace” in Israeli discourse, criticizing his foreign‑policy decisions becomes politically much harder. (mk.ru)

The most paradoxical thing is how, through different prisms — Ukrainian, Indian and Israeli — the same tenet of American policy is refracted: “America First.” In the Ukrainian reading this sounds as a warning: Washington is ready to support, but only up to the point where support begins to interfere with its own calculations. In the Indian reading it is an invitation to bargain: the US is building its order, but one can find a profitable niche in it if autonomy is firmly defended. In the Israeli reading it is almost coincident with national interests: the more selfish America is, the more reliably it bets on an ally that demonstrates resolve and military strength. (ru.wikipedia.org)

These three perspectives matter precisely because they rarely reach English‑language audiences in full. Ukrainian fear of a “quick US deal” with Russia and an imposed capitulation; Indian distrust of Washington’s sanction morality while simultaneously using American opportunities; Israeli readiness to be a co‑producer of American force in exchange for security guarantees — all of this together creates a far more complex portrait of international perceptions of the US than the classic binary of “adversaries vs. allies.”

In March 2026 the US is at once waging a war in the Middle East, trying to finish the war in Europe and holding the balance in the Indo‑Pacific. But looking at Washington through the eyes of Kyiv, New Delhi and Jerusalem makes clear: the key question today is not whether America has enough resources, but how countries dependent on those resources and decisions will learn to live with an America that is less and less willing to pay for “common values” and more and more willing to pay only for its own interests.

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How the US looks from Kyiv, Moscow and Seoul: war, Iran and Trump's election through foreign...

In early March 2026, in three very different capitals — Kyiv, Moscow and Seoul — the United States is written about a lot, emotionally and almost always in connection with war and security. For Ukraine, America is the main, but by no means unambiguous, guarantor of survival. For Russia, it is an adversary and a hidden participant in the conflict, while simultaneously a necessary negotiation partner. For South Korea, it is a key security ally whose decisions affect both the Korean Peninsula and the regional economy. The common backdrop for all three is the US war with Iran and the Trump administration’s attempts to simultaneously “finish with Ukraine” and not fail in the Middle East.

The first major cluster of topics is the new role of the US in the war around Ukraine after Trump came to power and the launch of trilateral Russia–Ukraine–US talks. In the Russian media environment it is declaratively presented that America has “finally recognized” the need for dialogue with Moscow, but the tone of commentary is suspicious and anxious. Pieces about the rounds of talks in Abu Dhabi in January–February and the preparation of further meetings stress that the US is, in essence, the third warring party, even though formally it sits at the table as a mediator. One typical storyline is video analyses and columns about how “America is squeezing Kyiv” while at the same time allowing Russia to continue massive strikes. In a popular Rutube vlog devoted to the negotiations, the author caustically describes the situation: the US delegation headed by the president’s son‑in‑law Jared Kushner and special envoy Steve Whitkoff allegedly did not even attend part of the sessions, “leaving the Ukrainians to discuss details with lower‑rank officials,” while Russia carried out a “night of Iskanders and Shaheds,” unleashing dozens of missiles and hundreds of drones on Ukrainian cities. According to him, the “coalition of the willing” in Europe — France, Britain, Germany — is ready to deploy troops as security guarantors tomorrow, but they were “shown the door so they wouldn’t get in the way,” ceding the field to a strictly American format of guarantees, not equivalent to NATO’s Article V. Such a narrative benefits the Kremlin: Russia is portrayed as a state that strikes “with purpose,” the US as a cynical arbiter ready to barter Ukraine’s fate behind the scenes, and Europe as a powerless extra. (n4k.ru)

The picture in the Ukrainian media space is different, but also lacks simple heroes. In expert columns aimed at a domestic audience, the US remains the undisputed strategic patron, yet authors increasingly warn that 2026 could become a “year of trials” precisely because American policy is becoming less predictable. Ukrainian analysts link the fate of military and financial aid to the timetable of US domestic politics — from midterm elections to Trump’s campaign — and explicitly write that Kyiv must prepare for a period when Washington will be at war with Iran, pressing Russia at the negotiating table and cutting resources for Ukraine at the same time. In one Ukrainian analytical piece, 2026 is described for the country as “a year of strategic turning through survival” — a formulation in which the US appears not as a guarantor of victory, but as a factor that makes the outcome of the struggle even more unpredictable. (uaportal.com)

The harshest and most overtly ideological view is formed in the Russian segment consistently reproduced by state and pro‑state platforms. Here America is still described in the logic of “open conflict,” not only on the Ukrainian front but also along the line of strategic stability. Officials and close experts remind audiences that Moscow has de‑facto exited the New START regime, and Deputy Foreign Minister Sergey Ryabkov already in 2023 allowed for the possibility that after February 2026 there might be no new arms‑control treaty. In recent comments that thought is developed further: Russia supposedly cannot continue participation “on previous terms” when the US, in Ryabkov’s wording, is conducting an “open conflict” against it — in Ukraine, via sanctions, and in space. Thus, in the Russian version, talks about Ukraine are presented as just one front of a larger confrontation with the US, and the refusal to extend New START is framed as a logical response to Washington. (ru.wikipedia.org)

The second major block of discussion in all three countries is related to the US war against Iran and how the Middle Eastern front shifts the balance of American attention and resources. In the Russian media space there is a noticeable presence of retellings and reinterpretations of American sources themselves. The portal InoSMI actively publishes translations of articles from The Hill and The National Interest, but Russian headlines and subheads emphasize US vulnerability. In a piece based on an article by Ellen Mitchell in The Hill it is stressed that if a war with Iran drags on longer than the four–five weeks Trump mentioned, America will face ammunition shortages, since stocks have already been depleted by the war in Ukraine and years of supporting allies. Russian commentators add the conclusion that Washington will have to “choose priorities” — either Tehran or Kyiv. Another translated text, based on a publication in The National Interest, focuses on the question of “why Trump won’t give Ukraine more aircraft.” There the dilemma is discussed: F‑35s have demonstrated effectiveness against Iranian air defenses, but it is unclear whether the American arsenal can withstand simultaneous strain on two theaters, and most importantly — whether supplying new aircraft to Kyiv would not provoke a sharp escalation with Moscow, up to the risk of Russia using nuclear weapons against Ukraine. (inosmi.ru)

Against this backdrop, there also appear openly propagandistic pieces presenting the Iranian campaign as a “strategic defeat for the US.” In an analytical piece by military observer Alexander Khrolenko for Sputnik, the war is described as a protracted trap from which Washington “cannot exit without losing face,” while Iran “methodically destroys the enemy’s infrastructure.” The author cites reports in The New York Times showing satellite images of destroyed American bases in Bahrain, Qatar, Kuwait and other countries, and quotes former US military analyst Douglas Macgregor as saying that “all American bases in the Middle East have been destroyed thanks to Russia and China.” The construction is transparent: Russia and China are presented as invisible architects of US defeat, and America itself as a power that intervenes in conflicts out of inertia but does not control the outcome. (sputnik-georgia.ru)

The Ukrainian media and expert environment closely follows the Iranian front as well, but the main focus in these materials is not the fate of the US as such, but the potential “dilution” of American attention. Specialized blogs and columns voice alarm: if Iran draws a significant portion of the Pentagon’s resources, Kyiv may face a new round of shortages in shells, missiles and modern air‑defense systems. Commentators recall the supply crises of 2023–2024 and directly link them to later fluctuations in Western support. Against this backdrop, talks with Russia — where the US is acting as a key moderator — are seen both as an opportunity to break the diplomatic stalemate and as a risk of becoming a bargaining chip in a much broader bargain between Washington, Moscow and Tehran simultaneously.

In the South Korean press the US war with Iran is discussed in a more pragmatic, economic‑strategic key. Morning analytical briefs for investors dissect Wall Street behavior and oil price dynamics in detail amid the Middle East escalation. The author of one such review on Naver’s Premium platform notes that for Korean exports of electronics and batteries, key risks are fluctuations in US demand and rising energy costs caused by geopolitical shocks. At the same time the American market is still described as the main benchmark: movements of indices on Wall Street and Fed decisions are interpreted as more important for Korea than direct US military actions, yet it is through the Iranian crisis that Korean commentators explain heightened investor nervousness and a rise in risk premia. (contents.premium.naver.com)

The third key storyline, refracted differently in Russia, Ukraine and South Korea, is US domestic politics in the Trump era and its impact on allies and adversaries. Ukrainian analysts carefully cite Western forecasts about how the outcome of US elections and possible “midterms under Trump” will affect the volume and format of aid to Kyiv. One such forecast references assessments by Oxford Economics and the World Bank about slowing growth in Russia and Europe and, in parallel, expectations that the US in 2026–2027 will revise priorities for funding foreign‑policy projects, including support for Ukraine. For the Ukrainian audience this serves as a reminder: even if Washington is now actively involved in negotiations with Moscow and publicly promises “military instruments of influence” in case of bad faith by the Kremlin, American internal cycles and budgetary constraints can abruptly change the picture. (uaportal.com)

The Russian side, commenting on the American domestic agenda, traditionally focuses on Trump as a symbol of “pragmatism” and “deals.” Pro‑government columns recall the Anchorage summit of 2025 and the “crisis meeting Europe — White House,” stressing that Trump was supposedly always ready to bargain over Ukraine and sanctions. In analytical retellings of Western sources, emphasis is placed on the idea that under his leadership Washington seeks to exit “other people’s wars” with minimal losses, shifting part of the costs onto Europe. From this arises a popular motif in Russia: the US is ready to use Ukraine as a tool of pressure but not as an object of long‑term commitments, while with Moscow and Tehran Trump seeks to conclude a kind of “big deal” — a new format of security, sanctions and energy markets. (ru.wikipedia.org)

In South Korea the US is primarily viewed as the backbone of the regional security architecture and the main economic partner, and for that reason the local press closely follows shifts in American policy. However, unlike in Ukraine or Russia, where Trump is almost a mythological figure, in Korean commentary he more often appears as a source of uncertainty regarding tariffs, technological restrictions and policy toward China, rather than as a “commander‑in‑chief of world wars.” For the Seoul audience the key question is: will the US remain a reliable ally amid simultaneous crises in Europe and the Middle East, and will the US–China rivalry evolve into a form that forces Korea to choose sides more sharply than before.

There is another layer of discussion, especially noticeable in Ukrainian and Russian sources: perceiving the US through the prism of the drone war and new technologies. The Ukrainian side, citing an editorial in The Wall Street Journal that Ukraine and the US “fight common enemies,” points to the link: Iranian Shahed drones, supplied to Russia starting in 2022, were used against Ukrainian cities, and now derivatives from those same technologies and supply chains are surfacing in the Middle East, where they attack targets affecting American interests as well. From Ukrainian commentators’ point of view, this confirms that the war on their territory long ago exceeded a bilateral conflict and became a proving ground from which technologies and tactics “spread” around the world, returning to the US as new threats. (charter97.org)

Russian and pro‑Russian authors, for their part, use the theme of drones and precision weapons to underscore the vulnerability of American infrastructure and US “fatigue” from endless wars. In the same vein are statements by some Western skeptics, like the aforementioned Macgregor, actively quoted by Russian media as a “voice of reason from Washington.” Such selection of sources helps build a picture in which the US is shown as simultaneously aggressive and an exhausted hegemon forced to reconsider its commitments.

If you combine these three optics — Ukrainian, Russian and South Korean — the result is a fairly complex, sometimes contradictory but important international portrait of the US in spring 2026. Everywhere America remains a central actor without whom it is impossible to end the war in Ukraine, stabilize the situation in the Middle East, or build long‑term economic strategies in Asia. But nowhere — among allies or adversaries — is it any longer perceived as an unambiguously reliable and omnipotent partner.

Ukrainian voices talk about a “year of survival” and try to fit into the changing American agenda without losing agency. Russian commentators construct a narrative of a “great deal” in which Moscow, Tehran and Beijing supposedly impose new rules of the game on Washington. South Korean analysts, relying on Wall Street and commodity market fluctuations, see the US as both an anchor and a source of turbulence. Each of them, in their own way, answers the same question that is rarely formulated directly inside the United States: will America have the resources, political will and internal consensus to be the global guarantor of security when wars and crises are pressing in on it simultaneously from three sides — Ukrainian, Iranian and Asian?

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The World Watches Washington: Australia, Japan and Brazil React

In recent days the United States has again become the center of global discussions — but this time not because of elections or domestic polarization, rather because of a sharp turn toward a power-based foreign policy. Military intervention in Venezuela, joint U.S. and Israeli strikes on Iran, the assassination of Iran’s supreme leader and subsequent Iranian strikes on bases with American presence in the Persian Gulf, as well as the sinking of an Iranian frigate by an American submarine in the Indian Ocean — all of this is perceived in Australia, Japan and Brazil not as isolated episodes but as the outlines of a new era of American “hard-power leadership.” (en.wikipedia.org)

Against this backdrop, in Brazil the conversation about Washington’s pressure on the upcoming elections and economic policy is intensifying; in Japan, concern focuses on whether the U.S. military venture will draw the country even more deeply into the orbit of American strategy; and in Australia, discussion centers on risks to regional security and the global economy. A common undertone everywhere is anxiety: how controllable is America, whose decisions still determine the price of oil, exchange rates, the security of sea lanes and the resilience of alliances.

The central theme of all these discussions is the war with Iran. For Brazil this is primarily a question of oil, inflation and political pressure. One economic assessment for the Brazilian press explicitly states: the market is closely watching the consequences of the U.S. and Israeli strikes on Iran, which are already raising fears about disruptions to oil and gas supplies and, consequently, a spike in inflation. (forbes.com.br) Forecasts of slower growth for Brazil’s economy in 2026 are now linked not only to domestic elections and a high policy rate but also to the “American” factor — war, sanctions and commodity price volatility.

At the same time, the reaction of Brazil’s political scene to the U.S. strikes on Iran is uneven. In the Senate, Senator Marcos Rogério Bittar recently publicly welcomed Washington’s actions, saying that “the free world today celebrates the United States’ attacks on Iran,” and he lambasted the Brazilian left for “inconsistency”: domestically it speaks of human rights but turns a blind eye to repression in states like Iran. This was reported by the official Senate agency. (www12.senado.leg.br) Meanwhile, left-wing and progressive outlets portray events as a new phase of American imperialism, emphasizing the danger of conflict escalation and the threat to Global South countries.

The government line, voiced in a notably cited analytical piece, is to condemn the strikes and call for de-escalation. Brazil officially condemned the U.S. attacks on Iran and demanded a reduction in tensions, while Brazilian media noted that most Americans themselves — according to a CNN poll — do not support the operation: 59% of U.S. citizens expressed disapproval of military action against Iran. (poder360.com.br) For a Brazilian audience this is an important argument: criticism of American policy is emphasized not simply as “anti-imperialist” rhetoric but by reference to American democracy itself, which many in Brazil believe increasingly diverges from the decisions of the Trump administration.

The second strand of Brazil’s discussion is structural: it’s not only about Iran but also about how the U.S. treats its partners. The 2025 diplomatic crisis is recalled, when the Trump administration imposed 50-percent tariffs on all Brazilian goods, citing a “witch hunt” against Jair Bolsonaro and an allegedly unfavorable trade balance — despite the fact that in reality the U.S. ran a trade surplus with Brazil. (pt.wikipedia.org) Recent news fits this narrative: the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision to declare the broad Trump tariff regime under the IEEPA law unconstitutional is read in Brazilian business media as a signal: on one hand, U.S. institutions still function; on the other, the president immediately promised a new global 10% tariff on all imports. (inda.org.br)

In left-leaning Brazilian outlets such as Brasil de Fato there is a warning: the country “bets on caution,” but U.S. pressure ahead of the elections will only increase. Political scientist Karen Lapa, in her column for Brasil de Fato, speaks of a combination of direct and indirect intervention: from the agenda of Lula’s visit to the White House to information campaigns and the positions of American funds in the Brazilian market. In her view, “no country in the world will irresponsibly risk standing on the front line against the United States,” but it is this asymmetry of power that creates a double trap for Brazil — economic and political. (brasildefato.com.br)

In more radical publications of popular movements, like the January issue of Jornal do MAB, the current U.S. war in the Middle East is framed within a broader picture of “imperialist aggression,” where Iran, Palestine, Cuba, Venezuela and the BRICS countries are elements of the same field of struggle. The authors emphasize that 2026 will be a year of a “great struggle for hegemony,” in which the U.S. and some European states try to hold onto dwindling control over resources and the rules of the game. (mab.org.br) This rhetoric does not directly set the course of official foreign policy, but it shows how a significant portion of Brazilian civil society perceives Washington’s actions: not as a fight for security but as a reaction to the rise of China and the BRICS.

If in Brazil the “American issue” is closely intertwined with oil, inflation and electoral pressure, in Japan the current escalation with Iran and the war in Venezuela are perceived primarily through the prism of regional security and Tokyo’s role in the U.S.-led alliance architecture. Analytical blogs and expert columns, for example on the Canon Institute for Global Studies site, note that the joint U.S.-Israeli operation against Iran, launched shortly after Trump’s message to Congress, became, in one author’s phrase, a “weekend breaker” of the previous agenda: Washington’s attention switched instantly from domestic economic issues and competition with China to a war that could alter the balance of power in the Middle East. (cigs.canon)

For Japanese analysts the key question is not only the war itself but how it will shift U.S. strategic priorities in the Indo-Pacific region. Commentators working at the intersection of economics and security emphasize that the new course of the administration, set out in the national security strategy, implies focusing forces on containing China and maintaining “Western” control over the Western Hemisphere, as already demonstrated by the American intervention in Venezuela. (jiia.or.jp) In a widely cited column journalist Yoshiko Sakurai explains that the strikes on Caracas became a visible implementation of the new doctrine: the U.S. intends to “hold” both Americas under its umbrella, even if that requires military intervention and ignoring the reactions of Global South countries.

At the same time Japanese financial commentators are tracking another aspect of American policy — attitudes toward the dollar and intervention in currency markets. Articles for J‑Money and analytical notes from Nomura Research recall how the U.S. Treasury once listed Japan as a watchlist country for currency policy, and they discuss the risk that a second Trump administration could shift the emphasis from tariffs to encouraging a weaker dollar, which would put Japan between the hammer of U.S. demands and the anvil of its own struggle against excessive yen depreciation. (nri.com) In this narrative the wars with Iran and Venezuela are not background noise but factors accelerating financial shocks and forcing Tokyo to coordinate its moves with Washington even more closely.

Japanese public opinion, however, is not unanimous. On the left there is sharp criticism framing the current U.S. course of building military power and expanding operational zones as an “imperialist global war strategy.” In a recent article in the weekly Zenshin, U.S. strikes on Iran and the planned hardening of policy toward China are described as part of a “global war strategy,” and the authors call for mass protests against both Washington’s policy and the Japanese government’s path of militarization and closer alignment with the U.S. (zenshin.org) Notably, these protest voices not only denounce specific strikes but also question the very idea that an alliance with the U.S. guarantees Japan’s security. In their view, following Washington drags the country into potential conflict with China and Iran, making Japanese bases and ports targets for missiles and drones.

In more moderate academic debates, for example on the platform of the Japan Association of International Relations, the focus shifts to how to maintain “strategic maneuverability” in relations with the U.S.: how to remain a key ally without becoming an automatic accomplice to all American interventions. University-run seminars on the U.S. role in the Israel–Palestine conflict and the war in Gaza underscore that Japan cannot afford to ignore the moral and legal aspects of allied policy. (jair.or.jp)

Australia occupies a special position in this trio: traditionally close to the U.S. and sharing its strategic concerns about China, it is simultaneously heavily dependent on stable global commodity markets and maritime trade. In Australian business and political commentary the two current American narratives — Trump’s trade policy and the war in Iran — overlap. The Supreme Court decision on tariffs, followed by the president’s promise to introduce a 10-percent global import tariff, is seen as proof that Washington is ready to take unilateral steps even toward allies, including Australia. (finance.yahoo.com) For Canberra this is a signal: American protectionism is becoming a permanent backdrop, not a temporary tool of pressure on specific competitors.

At the same time Australian analysts view the war with Iran and strikes on maritime infrastructure through the lens of vulnerability of their own export routes. Admiralty and academic commentators in Canberra warn that a large redeployment of U.S. forces to the Persian Gulf and the Indian Ocean, observed already in the buildup phase before the war, pushes the region toward greater militarization and raises the risk of attacks on tankers and undersea infrastructure vital to Australia. (en.wikipedia.org) Unlike the left scenes in Brazil and Japan, mainstream Australian media more often emphasize the need to “contain” authoritarian regimes and the danger of a nuclear Iran, while also expressing concern about the scope and consequences of the military campaign.

At the intersection of all these themes another common motif emerges: perceptions of the American domestic discourse itself. In Brazil, Japan and Australia careful citation is given to U.S. polls showing that a majority of Americans disapprove of the war with Iran, and to reports of large protests in U.S. cities against escalation. (poder360.com.br) For external observers this confirms that the current Washington course is not the result of a “national consensus” but of a political choice by a specific administration, and that the gap between society and elites in the U.S. is widening. In Brazil this is cited to show that criticism of the war is not anti-Americanism but solidarity with Americans themselves; in Japan to emphasize that betting long-term on a “Trump-style” approach may prove mistaken; and in Australia to reassure audiences that the United States still retains democratic mechanisms capable of correcting the current course.

Finally, country-specific emphases give international reactions local color. In Brazil discussion of American wars is closely tied to the struggle against “fascism” and the internal comeback of Bolsonarism: the left sees Washington as a source of external pressure capable of tilting the electoral field, while the right sees it as a model of tough anti-communist and anti-Islamist policy. (brasildefato.com.br) In Japan the debate revolves around balancing alliance and autonomy: conservatives call for strengthening military capability and embedding Japan in the U.S. global strategy, while the opposition warns against turning the country into a staging ground for others’ wars and highlights the risk of being simultaneously drawn into crises with Iran and China. (jiia.or.jp) In Australia the question is put more plainly and bluntly: how to remain a reliable U.S. ally without becoming hostage to its trade and military decisions that are dangerous for an export-oriented economy and regional stability. (finance.yahoo.com)

In all three countries the American agenda has ceased to be abstract geopolitics. U.S. strikes on Iran and Venezuela are reflected in the price of gasoline in Brazil, in the exchange rates of the yen and the Australian dollar, and in the planning of Japanese and Australian defense policy. Local experts and politicians increasingly speak not about whether the U.S. is “right” or “wrong” in a specific conflict, but about how to build their own strategy in a world where Washington once again bets on unilateral force. And although the tone of these discussions varies — from sharp anti-imperialist rhetoric in Brazilian and Japanese left-wing outlets to more restrained pragmatism in centrist Australian newspapers — the same feeling is present everywhere: the era when America could afford “distant wars” without a serious response from its allies is passing. Now each new Washington move — whether a missile strike on Iran, the torpedoing of a frigate, or a 10-percent global tariff — immediately becomes a domestic political issue in Brazil, Japan and Australia. And it is precisely this, not only the combat operations themselves, that is shaping the international view of the United States today.

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Worlds on Both Sides of Washington: How Germany, France and Brazil Argue About a New US Use of...

In early March 2026, debate about the United States in leading media in Europe and Latin America unexpectedly coalesced around one big theme: a return to Washington’s blunt use of force. In German, French and Brazilian outlets the US is once again described as a power that simultaneously conducts a large-scale military campaign in the Middle East, meddles in regime change in Latin America, pressures allies and at the same time is losing the image of the West’s “natural” leader. But the tone and emphasis in Berlin, Paris and Brasília differ sharply: for some it is first and foremost a question of security and dependence, for others — a threat to sovereignty and domestic democracy.

At the center of the current wave of commentary is the sharp build-up of American military presence in the Middle East and the war with Iran. Several European and Brazilian pieces directly compare the events of recent weeks to the period before the invasion of Iraq: it is noted that since late January the US has been concentrating the largest force in the region since 2003, including aviation, the fleet and missile defense components, against the backdrop of escalation with Tehran.(pt.wikipedia.org) At the same time, three different contexts — German, French and Brazilian — create three different narratives around the same American move.

In the German media space the image of the US most often appears in the mode of a skeptical political column. Deutschlandfunk commentators, summarizing the international press, cite Asian and European newspapers that warn: the US‑Iran confrontation carries risks for the global economy and requires allies not to offer automatic support but to insistently demand de‑escalation. One review quotes a characteristic passage from Japan’s Yomiuri Shimbun: Tokyo “must demand de‑escalation from both sides and use all diplomatic instruments.”(deutschlandfunk.de) In the German rendering this message sounds broader: since Washington is acting increasingly unilaterally, allies — from Japan to Germany — are forced to think primarily about their own security, not loyalty.

The French press, notably the center‑right Le Figaro, views the same confrontation through the lens of direct consequences for Europeans: French tourists have been stranded in Asia and the Middle East amid the war, the foreign minister speaks about Rafale fighters deployed in the UAE being used for operations in the region.(kiosque.lefigaro.fr) Comments on these reports carry a typically Parisian ambivalence: on one hand France is involved in the broader Western military arc, on the other — it increasingly fears becoming a hostage to Washington’s strategic decisions, over which it has no control. Therefore newspaper columns intensify the theme of a “communication crisis” in the White House and the need for Europe to formulate its own Middle East line rather than simply adjusting to the US.

In Brazil the discussion of the same American campaign is far more emotional and politicized. Leftist outlets and analytical portals link the war with Iran and the preceding “twelve‑day war” of 2025 to the personal style of President Donald Trump, his propensity for unilateral and forceful solutions. In an interview analyzed by the site Brasil 247, political scientist John Mearsheimer predicts: a US victory in a war against Iran is impossible, the conflict will drag on, depleting American resources and undermining support for Trump at home.(brasil247.com) Brazilian commentators conclude that Washington is not so much managing the world system as becoming a source of instability whose consequences batter developing economies — through oil prices, sanctions and market turbulence.

This line is directly taken up in economic analysis. Forbes Brazil, assessing the country’s economic prospects for 2026, points out that one of the main external risks remains US and Israeli strikes on Iran, which threaten disruptions to oil and gas supplies and carry inflationary shocks.(forbes.com.br) For local economists Washington is no longer only a partner or an “anchor” of global stability, but a factor capable at any moment of derailing an interest‑rate easing cycle, jeopardizing employment recovery and triggering another round of inequality.

If the Middle East thread emphasizes the military side of the new American policy, in Latin America the main symbol of the changing US role becomes its interference in the region’s internal affairs. Brazilian publications and regional reviews analyze in detail the American intervention in Venezuela and the ensuing “Cuba crisis of 2026.” The pieces note that the ousting of Nicolás Maduro — a key ally of Havana — the blocking of Venezuelan oil supplies and the openly stated goal to achieve regime change in Cuba by year’s end have effectively resurrected Cold War rhetoric, when Washington decided which governments were acceptable in its “backyard.”(pt.wikipedia.org)

In Brazil this topic is immediately linked to the 2026 elections at home. The center‑left outlet Brasil de Fato publishes an extended interview with a political scientist who states plainly: “Brazil is right to exercise caution, but will face US pressure in the elections.” The expert recalls the possible visit of President Lula to the White House and talks with Trump, and stresses that “no country in the world will irresponsibly risk taking a front‑line stance against the US,” while noting that Washington has in recent years systematically interfered in the region’s electoral processes.(brasildefato.com.br) In the Brazilian reading, American policy in Latin America is not abstract geopolitics but a direct threat to democratic sovereignty, which can manifest as information campaigns, economic pressure and support for right‑wing forces.

In Europe the discussion of US interference takes a different form — as a crisis of confidence in American leadership in general. A Brazilian analytical portal, citing fresh data from a European Polling Europe Euroscope survey, writes that 64% of Europeans express a negative view of President Trump, and 51% no longer consider the US a friendly country, with only a quarter of respondents calling it an ally. Compared with October 2024, trust in the US as a partner has collapsed by 36 points.(laviaitalia.com.br) This shift is especially sensitive for Germany and France, where the entire postwar foreign policy was built on the idea of America as a guarantor of security. German and French commentators, relaying such polls, increasingly ask: if populations no longer see the US as a natural ally, how resilient are NATO and the familiar architecture of European security?

Against the backdrop of geopolitical crises, another motif stands out in European columns about the US — disappointment with American domestic politics and elites. French analytical blogs and sites like Les Crises turn to a series of investigations and published court documents in the Jeffrey Epstein case and ask: how could such a criminal mechanism have existed for years at the heart of American political, economic and media elites?(les-crises.fr) These texts mix moral condemnation and cold realism: the US appears not only as an intervening power abroad but as a society where “double standards” and elite impunity call into question Washington’s right to lecture others on human rights.

In Brazilian discourse the image of “internal” America is colored differently. Euronews in Portuguese runs a detailed “tracker” of Trump’s environmental policy, recording every administrative step perceived as an “attack on the climate.” Among recent episodes is a federal judge’s decision that deemed unlawful the White House’s cancellation of multibillion‑dollar clean energy subsidies in states that voted for Kamala Harris in 2024, and sharp criticism of new dietary guidelines from the health and agriculture ministries perceived as industry‑friendly.(pt.euronews.com) For Latin American authors these stories are further confirmation that the US under Trump is a state ready to use budgets, courts and regulators to punish political opponents, and that expecting it to lead globally on the environment is naïve.

Interestingly, German and French outlets, while critical of Trump, are more cautious in their conclusions. A pragmatic logic still dominates there: even if Washington acts unilaterally and cynically, Europe remains dependent on American security and the dollar. One German radio column ironically retells the old “pizza theory” — that an uptick in orders near the Pentagon supposedly presages overtime and war preparations — as a symbol that Europeans can only read the signs from Washington and adapt.(deutschlandfunk.de) In Brazilian and broader South American debates the idea of building alternative centers of power — from regional integration to closer ties with China — already predominates as insurance against American arbitrariness.

Against this background one particularly expressive storyline that both European and Brazilian authors pick up is the mass protests inside the United States against strikes on Iran and the killing of Ali Khamenei. Chronicles of these demonstrations, held in February–March in dozens of American cities, are cited not so much as news as an argument in the debate: even within the US a significant part of society is not prepared to endlessly back foreign ventures, and this constrains Washington’s maneuverability.(pt.wikipedia.org) For German and French commentators this is a reminder that “America” is not only the Trump administration but also protesters, lawyers and judges trying to resist. For Brazilian center‑left media these protests serve as an example of how street pressure and civil society can hold militarism in check — a lesson they transfer to their own political contexts.

Taken together, the German, French and Brazilian texts produce a multilayered, contradictory but fairly coherent image of today’s United States. For Europe it is still an indispensable but increasingly unreliable ally that must be watched closely and, where possible, kept at arm’s length in the riskiest operations. For Brazil and broader Latin America the US is primarily a major power that interferes in neighboring countries, pressures their elections and at the same time can wreck their economies by launching a war on the other side of the world. For all three societies the United States becomes an object not only of fear or admiration but of sober analysis: the key question now is not “for” or “against” America, but “how to live in a world where Washington no longer guarantees stability or predictability.” And it is precisely in this shift — from belief in a special US role to a pragmatic and often critical dialogue with it — that the main change in international perception of America likely lies today.

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US Between War with Iran, Ukraine Talks and Tech Competition: How India, Russia and...

Over the past days, in Indian, Russian and Ukrainian debates the United States has almost everywhere become the center of three concurrent storylines. First, there is the American‑Israeli war with Iran and the scale of Washington’s involvement in the Middle East. Second, the role of the United States in finding a formula to end the war in Ukraine and the pressure on Kyiv. And finally, the growing competition between the United States and China in high technology, against the backdrop of which India is trying to forge its own “third way” and use the American factor to its advantage. Each of the three countries views America through the prism of its own vulnerabilities and interests — energy, military and economic.

The main theme uniting news feeds and opinion columns is the suddenly begun US‑Israeli war with Iran, which started on 28 February 2026 and has already been described analytically as a distinct American‑Israeli‑Iranian war. Russian and Ukrainian sources recount the chronology of escalation in detail, from the deployment of American forces in the Persian Gulf in January to the strike against Iranian leadership and Tehran’s retaliatory actions, noting that the US operation quickly grew from “limited” pressure into a full theater of war involving carrier strike groups and a wide range of missile weapons.(ru.wikipedia.org) Against this backdrop, India and Russia are discussing not only the military aspects but also how American decisions hit the global economy and the domestic politics of other countries.

In the Indian context, the United States in recent days figures primarily as a co‑author of the strike on Iran and the cause of a new wave of instability in the oil and gas market. The Russian newspaper Rossiyskaya Gazeta, citing Indian interlocutors in New Delhi, conveys the position of local experts: India has taken a conspicuously cautious line, limited to the formula of being “deeply concerned” over the US‑Israeli attack and calling on all parties for restraint, but has not condemned the killing of Iran’s supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. Indian analysts quoted by the Economic Times directly link the hostilities to a threat to India’s macroeconomic stability, whose energy security critically depends on supplies from the Middle East.(rg.ru)

The tone of the Indian discussion is pragmatic: the US is criticized not so much for “imperialism” as for repeatedly creating price shocks in commodity markets that hit developing economies. Overlaid on this is a longer‑term perspective, visible in analysis of the Global Summit on Artificial Intelligence held in Delhi in February: Indian authors speak of the need to form a “third way” in AI — between the American and Chinese techno‑blocs. One piece, recounted in a Russian aggregator, emphasizes that the summit was “the first of its kind in the Global South” and that India seeks not to be merely a field of competition between the US and China but to shape standards and coalitions itself.(nachedeu.com) In this context the American factor looks double‑edged: on the one hand, Washington is a needed partner for technology and investment; on the other, it is a source of strategic and price shocks.

Russian commentary about the United States today is also concentrated around the same war with Iran, but the emphases differ. For Moscow this is primarily an occasion to examine how Washington conducts the war, what resources it has and what it actually seeks to achieve. Senator Alexey Pushkov, in an interview and on his Telegram channel — as reported by Lenta.ru — speculates that the United States may seek to exit the conflict by declaring victory: in his formulation, Iran’s missile potential has been reduced, many targets hit, the supreme leader toppled — and this can be sold as success, “although few will believe such a ‘victory’.”(lenta.ru) Pushkov also points to the role of Secretary of State Marco Rubio (note: Rubio is a US senator in reality), who, in his view, “is preparing public opinion” for a possible winding down of the operation while simultaneously claiming an allegedly averted direct threat of war from Iran and a reduction in Tehran’s missile potential.

In the Russian media environment these assessments are embedded in a broader narrative: the United States is portrayed as a power that fans the conflict and then tries to exit it while saving face, describing any intermediate state as its strategic victory. At the same time Russian economic and market analysts treat Washington’s actions as a factor of global turbulence. The Ukrainian company xDirect, focused on the forex market, in its weekly review calls the Middle Eastern escalation the key event supporting the dollar, which in a supply shock is acting as a reserve currency and a beneficiary of geographical distance from the conflict. The authors recommend “playing the downside” on American indices and simultaneously buying gold, linking this to US policy and its market consequences.(xdirect.ua) In the Ukrainian view, this is also a reminder of how quickly external American campaigns can change financial conditions for debtor countries.

The Ukrainian discussion about the United States is now shadowed by two processes: the ongoing war with Russia and the Geneva negotiations on a possible end to the conflict, where Washington is the key interlocutor for Kyiv. The Russian TV channel REN TV in its political program emphasizes that the new round of talks on 26 February in Geneva is effectively taking place in a “bilateral” US–Ukraine format and that a few hours before it Donald Trump allegedly demanded by phone that Volodymyr Zelensky “conclude peace by the end of March.”(ren.tv) In Kremlin and pro‑Kremlin sources this line develops into the thesis that Washington is forcing Kyiv into an unfavorable peace, tired of the conflict.

On the Ukrainian side, especially in economic analysis, a different note is more evident: dependence on US decisions is taken as a given, but public concern is growing that Washington may shift attention to Iran and the Middle East. Reviews like the mentioned analysis on the dollar and prices for food and fuel stress that the dollar exchange rate remains a key parameter for Ukraine — and it is increasingly determined by US foreign‑policy moves, from sanctions to military operations.(24tv.ua) At the same time the very prospect of Geneva talks mediated by the United States provokes mixed feelings in Ukrainian society: on the one hand — hope for real security guarantees; on the other — fear that Washington may agree to “freeze” the conflict on terms less favorable than expectations from 2022–2023.

Against this backdrop another motif appears in the Russian and pro‑Russian information space: linking US actions against Iran to their strategy regarding Ukraine. In a column on Sputnik Abkhazia’s site the author openly speculates about the assassination of Iranian leadership, arguing that Trump allegedly “showed Russia what to do with Zelensky,” and drawing grim parallels: if the United States takes such radical steps in Iran, then it demonstrates a willingness to escalate in other conflicts.(sputnik-abkhazia.ru) This presentation is obviously designed to demoralize the Ukrainian audience and create a sense of Kyiv’s total dependence on Washington’s decisions, but indirectly it also reflects Russian fear of the unpredictability of current American policy.

While Russia and Ukraine experience the United States primarily as a military and political actor, the Indian discourse more strongly features long‑term technological and structural themes. The Global Summit on Artificial Intelligence in Delhi, which drew Western press attention and became a source of pride for local elites, is described in Indian commentary as an attempt to institutionalize its own AI development track — copying neither the American model based on private big tech and liberal regulation nor the Chinese model, tightly centralized and closely tied to state control.(nachedeu.com)

In this light the United States is at once partner and rival: India counts on American investment, access to cloud infrastructure and chips, but fears becoming merely a “junior partner” in a technological architecture where key standards and profits remain in the hands of California and Seattle. That makes India’s reaction to the American‑Israeli war with Iran especially layered: every new crisis launched by Washington forces New Delhi to balance between strategic partnership with the United States (against China) and the need to preserve stable channels with Iran, Russia and Arab energy suppliers.

Notably, in Russia, India and Ukraine, in almost all discussed materials the United States appears not as a “distant observer” but as a central factor around which each must adjust its own strategies. Russian politicians like Pushkov debate whether Washington will “sell” its version of victory in Iran and what the Americans’ next step will be.(lenta.ru) Indian economists calculate whether their energy balance can withstand a new round of Middle Eastern turbulence and to what extent the blow can be shifted onto Russian and other alternative supplies.(rg.ru) Ukrainian analysts try to guess how quickly the US will switch resources between theaters — from Ukraine to the Persian Gulf and back — and whether the Geneva consultations will presage deals made “over Kyiv’s head.”(ren.tv)

Looking at all three countries together, a common motif stands out: fatigue with American crisis management, where each new Washington initiative brings not only promises of security or investment but also a chain of side effects — price, political and military. However, the details of that fatigue differ. For Russia it is fodder for sarcastic forecasts about how the US will declare defeat a victory. For Ukraine it is anxiety that its fate may become part of a bargain where an American administration rushes toward a tidy deadline. For India it is cold calculation about how to leverage American presence in both security and technology while minimizing damage to its own economy.

This palette of local voices shows how heterogeneous the image of the United States is outside the English‑speaking world. Where the American press speaks of strategy, values and “responsibility for democracy,” Indian, Russian and Ukrainian commentators far more often count barrels of oil, rockets in arsenals and possible peace deadlines — and ask themselves a simple question: what price exactly are their countries paying for the latest turn in American foreign policy?

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Washington Under Fire: How the US–Israel War with Iran Reframes Calculations in Kyiv, Jerusalem and...

What a week ago still looked like a "regional flare‑up" is now being perceived in Ukraine, Israel and Saudi Arabia as a new stage in the global power configuration centered on the United States. A joint Washington–Tel Aviv operation against Iran, the killing of Ali Khamenei, massive strikes on Iranian infrastructure and Tehran’s retaliatory barrages against US bases and allies have reshaped the day's agenda: in Kyiv they are discussing how this will affect the war with Russia and US‑led negotiations; in Israel — how far the White House is prepared to go in a "war to victory"; in the Persian Gulf — how not to become expendable in an American‑Iranian confrontation.

The first major throughline heard in Kyiv, Jerusalem and the Arab press alike is the fear of a protracted US–Israel war with Iran that would turn the Middle East into a theater of attritional conflict in which Washington would be simultaneously the director, a participant and the one who could at any moment switch off the lights and leave. The Chinese agency Xinhua’s Arabic edition reports that officers and analysts in the region are already talking not about a "retribution campaign" but about the risk of a "long war of attrition" that will affect energy markets, maritime security and the internal stability of Gulf states tied to the US for security and economy. The piece emphasizes that it was the US‑Israeli strikes that set the tone, while Iran is only responding and widening the arc of the conflict across the Levant to the Strait of Hormuz and further into the Gulf — which produces a "growing fear that neither Washington nor Tehran controls the escalation ladder." Commentators in Cairo and Tehran warn that the US, accustomed to seeing the region as a "managed pressure space," faces the opposite situation — a front that drags it into the logic of endless counterattacks.

The second major motif in the Ukrainian debate centers on what the American strike on Iran means for Russia’s war against Ukraine and for the negotiation track Washington is trying to bring to a symbolic date, July 4, 2026. One of the most illustrative pieces is a column by a Kyiv analyst in Ukrainska Pravda with the telling headline "US Strike on Iran. What Are the Possible Consequences for Ukraine." The author, lawyer and reserve officer of the Israel Defense Forces Ihor Yoffe, writes bluntly that Washington’s decision "to use force against Tehran" reshuffles US priorities, resources and diplomatic attention and will inevitably be reflected in Moscow’s, Beijing’s and Kyiv’s allies’ lines of behavior. In his assessment, if the military phase on the Iranian front ends quickly and leads to a deal acceptable to Washington and Tel Aviv, it will remove acute competition for resources and allow the US to return to the role of moderator on Ukraine from a stronger position. Conversely, if the conflict drags on, Ukraine risks becoming "war number two" on the American agenda — with reduced military aid and, no less importantly, diminished interest in pressuring Russia. Yoffe notes that Russia is already attempting to exploit the new situation, presenting itself as a necessary US partner for Middle East stabilization and hoping to extract concessions on the Ukrainian dossier in exchange for "responsible behavior" in Iran.

Against this backdrop, Ukrainian media are vigorously debating an overall shift in American strategy under a second Trump term. Political scientists Minna Alander and Andreas Umland, in a column for Ukrainska Pravda, describe three strategic dilemmas for Europe in new US‑Russia‑Ukraine negotiations and stress that: cuts in military assistance, a conspicuous rapprochement with Moscow and now a large‑scale operation against Iran mean that Washington "has significantly reduced its influence on the Russia‑Ukraine war by cutting aid and refusing to exert effective pressure on Russia." The authors argue that the unprecedented concentration of US resources on the Middle Eastern theater leaves the EU with greater responsibility and, paradoxically, greater leverage over the final configuration of any deal on Ukraine — but for Kyiv this means increased dependence on an erratic transatlantic linkage where the keys to a ceasefire lie simultaneously in Washington, Moscow and now in regional capitals that see the Ukrainian track as a bargaining chip. In this context they warn: the example of Trump’s attempt to "buy" Greenland shows that Washington can offer Europe cynical packages like "territorial concessions in exchange for preserving a military umbrella for Ukraine" — and precisely now, amid the Middle Eastern war, pressure on Europeans could intensify.

Interestingly, the Russian press, read and cited in Ukraine as the "opposite perspective," also interprets the American war with Iran through a Ukrainian prism. Gazeta.Ru, in a piece on the impact of the US operation in Iran on Ukraine negotiations, quotes Kremlin press secretary Dmitry Peskov as emphasizing that it is advantageous for Moscow to continue talks with Washington on a settlement "despite American and Israeli strikes on Iran," because Russia "has its own interests," and US efforts are appreciated, but "you can only trust yourself first and foremost." For a Ukrainian audience this reads as: Russia is ready to bargain over Ukraine while watching Washington get bogged down in another war, and it hopes that the skewing of American resources toward the Middle Eastern front will give it additional room on the battlefield and at the negotiating table.

A second recurring thread is how Israelis and their regional partners perceive the US role in this war. Israeli commentary, which appears in both Ukrainian and Russian‑language media, conveys simultaneous gratitude for unprecedented levels of coordination and anxiety that Operation "Epic Fury" contains more than just "strikes on missile bases." Israeli officer‑lawyer Yoffe, analyzing the situation for a Ukrainian audience, emphasizes that Washington chose a forceful scenario not only because of Iran’s nuclear program but also as a demonstration of Trump’s willingness to use coalition operations to achieve quickly marketable domestic victories. For Israeli analysts this is a double signal: on one hand, a rare case in which the US not only declares "commitments to an ally" but converts them into large‑scale action; on the other, that very "demonstrativeness" makes Israel a target for a wider circle of adversaries and renders the war harder to manage.

A separate layer is the reaction in Arab media, primarily Saudi and pan‑Arab outlets. Saudi newspaper Okaz on its front page after the strike on Riyadh emphasizes that "Saudi authorities characterize Iran’s attacks on Riyadh and the Eastern Province as 'brazen and cowardly,'" while a headline about a "mythic fury" that "ignited the region" simultaneously references the official name of the American operation and the kingdom’s perception of this war as externally imposed and fraught with the destruction of the regional status quo. Authorities are conspicuously expressing solidarity with neighbors — the UAE, Bahrain, Kuwait, Jordan — which also came under Iranian strikes, yet they are not in a hurry to speak of full entry into the war on the US side, limiting themselves to rhetoric about "defending sovereignty" and the "right to respond." The tone between the lines is this: Saudi Arabia is not prepared for its territory and infrastructure to become a battlefield again, as happened in 2019, and it expects Washington to shoulder the main burden of escalation with Iran.

Many Arab commentaries also reflect another important regional view of the US: Washington is still seen as a security provider whose military presence is both insurance and a source of threat. In an analytical piece, Al Jazeera examines the "secret US weapon that disabled Iranian air defenses," dissecting the cyber and electronic warfare components of the operation and quoting specialists who call this war "the deadliest, most complex and most precise in history." But the piece also stresses that the US and Israel’s technological superiority means they are setting a new norm — where a crippling strike on a sovereign state can be delivered "without declaration and without mandate." For Arab readers this is not theoretical: in a neighboring article about Iranian strikes on the UAE, Qatar, Bahrain and Kuwait, the UAE Ministry of Defense reports civilian deaths and injuries among migrants, and Qatari authorities term attacks on civilian infrastructure "such that they cannot remain unanswered." The mirror logic is simple: if today the US creates a precedent for a "preemptive" coalition war against Iran, tomorrow that logic could be applied to a Gulf country whose policies no longer satisfy Washington.

A third common motif is the fear that the current war accelerates the erosion of international law and turns the UN Security Council into a stage for US power politics. At an emergency Security Council meeting, UN Secretary‑General António Guterres bluntly stated that both the US‑Israeli strikes on Iran and Tehran’s retaliatory attacks violate international law and raise the risk of a far wider conflict, calling for an immediate return to diplomacy. The American and Israeli delegations, by contrast, insisted on the "legality of preventive actions" to avert an Iranian nuclear threat, while the Iranian representative spoke of "war crimes" and "mass civilian casualties." In Arab and Ukrainian commentary that meeting is described as another example of how the US uses the UN platform to legitimize facts already committed: strikes that resulted in the death of the supreme leader of another state and the destruction of hundreds of sites across the country. For Kyiv this recalls how the US and its allies previously tried to push through Security Council decisions on Iraq and Libya, and for Arab readers — how the same "responsibility to protect" logic turned into regime change and chaos.

In Ukrainian discourse, notably, the reaction to the Middle Eastern war is accompanied by reflection on how Ukraine itself interacts with the American agenda. Commenting on Washington’s recent demarche after Ukrainian strikes on Novorossiysk and targets of the Caspian Pipeline Consortium, one Kyiv commentator noted that Trump’s harsh reaction was essentially "emotional" and linked not so much to international law as to the interests of particular American companies. This fits the same pattern as the current Middle Eastern campaign: in the eyes of the Ukrainian elite the US increasingly looks less like an "abstract bearer of democratic values" and more like a large, sometimes impulsive player for whom deals, business and quick political results matter more than a long‑term security architecture.

A revealing counterpoint to this is the Saudi experience of recent years. For Riyadh the US–Israel war with Iran is a new test of how independent Saudi foreign policy can be when the American security umbrella both saves and drags the kingdom into conflict. Just yesterday the crown prince tried to balance Washington, Beijing and Moscow — signing energy and investment deals and restoring relations with Iran through Chinese mediation. Today, against the backdrop of drone strikes on the US embassy in Riyadh and growing nervousness in oil markets, Saudi press conspicuously emphasizes "solidarity with allies" and "determination to protect the kingdom’s territory," yet it does not articulate a clear answer to whether Saudi Arabia is ready to join the escalation if Washington demands more than diplomatic notes and interception of hostile missiles.

This difference in emphasis is well illustrated by comparison with the Ukrainian agenda. For Kyiv the present war is above all a chance and a risk in negotiations with the US and Russia: a chance if Washington wants to demonstrate its ability to "close conflicts" and by July 4, 2026, be willing to squeeze Moscow; a risk if Trump decides that a picture‑perfect victory is easier to achieve in Tehran than in Donetsk. For Israel this is an existential war and a struggle to ensure that the US does not stop halfway but remains ready to go the distance despite regional and global costs. For Saudi Arabia and its neighbors this is an exam in surviving between hammer and anvil without allowing Washington or Tehran to turn them into expendable resources.

That is why the current configuration of the American campaign against Iran, as seen in Kyiv, Jerusalem and Riyadh, reveals three different but interconnected images of the US. For Ukraine America is increasingly an unpredictable but indispensable mediator controlling the main levers — military‑technical aid and the sanctions regime. For Israel it is the decisive but impulsive senior partner, willing to use military force for domestic political effect, but not always fully calculating the regional consequences. For Saudi Arabia it is both guarantor and source of threat, whose decisions open its skies to rockets and drones and subject its markets to price shocks. Altogether this creates a picture in which US influence remains colossal, but confidence in its strategic judgment is increasingly fragile. And that may be the main conclusion of the first week of a war already called in the Middle East "the deadliest and most complex in history": it has not only changed the balance of power between Washington, Tehran and Tel Aviv, but has also forced their partners — from Kyiv to Riyadh — to reconsider what it means to be an American ally when America itself is fighting multiple wars and increasingly acts from its own, not collective, security logic.

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America, Israel, Iran: a war seen differently

At the end of February — beginning of March 2026 the world suddenly found itself at a point many experts had long foreseen in their worst-case scenarios. A joint US–Israeli operation against Iran, the killing of Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, massive strikes on Iranian territory, retaliatory missile attacks on American bases and Israeli cities — all this is not just another flare-up of violence in the Middle East. For Japan, Israel and France it is a test of what America is today: a security guarantor, an irresponsible arsonist, or a cynical great-power player one cannot escape.

On the surface it may seem that everyone is talking about the same thing — the US and Israeli war with Iran. But if you listen to the tone, context and arguments in Tokyo, Tel Aviv and Paris, it becomes clear: they are talking about different Americas. For some it is an indispensable military umbrella, for others a direct source of danger, and for yet others a partner that drags them into conflict but without which they are also helpless.

The largest common storyline is the very US–Israeli–Iranian war. In France it is already entering the public sphere as a new “great war” on magazine covers: the Sunday Journal du Dimanche puts on its front page the formula “Iran – États‑Unis – Israël : la guerre”, stressing that this is not a “simple operation” but a rupture of the entire security architecture in and around the Middle East. In the Le Grand Continent think tank, Trump’s offensive is explained as a “war for regime change”, fitting it into a line from the strike on Iran’s nuclear facilities in the summer of 2025 to the current massive bombings. The authors show that the current strikes are a continuation of the 2025 operation, when US B‑2s and cruise missiles hit sites in Fordow and Natanz, and the IAEA has not since obtained full access — and now French observers debate whether the nuclear argument was a real threat or a political pretext.

At the same time French media record concrete, not abstract, consequences for the region: from the scenario of a war “spilling over” into Lebanon and forcing Paris to urgently convene a conference in early March to support the Lebanese army ahead of the UN peacekeepers’ withdrawal, to growing threats against Western diplomatic missions and citizens in Pakistan and other countries where attacks on US targets occur. Reports explain that it was precisely the American strikes on Iran, which resulted in the deaths of dozens of Iranian schoolgirls in Minab when a girls’ school was bombed, that triggered demonstrations and an attack on the US consulate in Karachi, where marines opened fire on protesters. The French perspective here is deliberately structural: the war is seen as a “chain of connected conflicts” in which each new American move creates waves of instability spreading through Lebanon, Pakistan and beyond.

If France sees primarily a geopolitical matrix in what is happening, Israel experiences this war as an existential, internal drama in which the US are both savior and source of dangerous illusions. Israeli media and experts reveal a dual layer of rhetoric. On the one hand, at the official level Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu describes the strikes as an attempt to “remove the existential threat” of the Iranian regime and explicitly thanks Washington for its participation, repeating the motif of a “decisive step” in the spirit of the American “resolve” the Israeli right has long demanded. At this level America is an indispensable ally that has finally completed the long-promised hard line toward Tehran.

But beneath this official layer another — anxious — mood is audible. Liberal outlets and some military commentators ask: what exactly do the US want to achieve beyond weakening Iran, and where are they dragging Israel? The memory of 2025 resurfaces: according to the American version, strikes then supposedly “completely destroyed” Iran’s nuclear infrastructure, yet months later it turned out that a significant portion of materials and capabilities remained. Rafael Grossi, head of the IAEA, reminded that most of the enriched uranium stockpiles remained in place after the 2025 attacks, and this quote is now used in Israeli debate as evidence that relying solely on “total strikes” guarantees neither disarmament nor regime change.

Israeli critics draw a painful parallel: the Trump Washington sees the current war as a chance for “regime change” in Tehran and does not hide it — thereby tying Israel to a project that could drag on for years, bring guerrilla warfare, escalate missile threats and spawn new waves of regional hatred. The question is stated bluntly: “Will Israel not become a tool of American domestic politics — ahead of the 2026 midterms — under the guise of fighting the Iranian regime?” Opinion columns note that for Trump and his Republican Party a show of force on the foreign front is an important resource before the November Congressional elections, and therefore many US actions are interpreted through the lens of electoral logic.

At the same time part of the Israeli public debate reminds that Iran is not only a regime but an 80‑million‑strong society that went through large-scale protests in the winter of 2025–2026. In this context punitive bombings that caused dozens or hundreds of civilian casualties undermine the moral position of Israel and the US. Mentions of the deaths of schoolgirls in Minab and other tragic incidents are used by human rights advocates as an argument: an all-out war allied with Washington risks cementing the image of Israel as complicit in collective punishment of the Iranian people, rather than a “targeted defender” against a nuclear threat.

Japan views the American offensive through a very different lens: through the prism of its own vulnerability and simultaneous dependency on the United States. Japanese discussion of Iran and US actions is rarely ideological and much more pragmatic. Political portals and security experts focus on one central question: how does this war change the fabric of the international order and what does it mean for Tokyo, which sits under the American “nuclear umbrella”?

Japanese analyses emphasize that in 2025 the “Trumpist” Washington already seriously weakened familiar multilateral mechanisms — from the G20 to the WTO and the classic “Group of Seven” format. Economists and political scientists at major financial groups like Nomura describe 2026 as the year when the main political risk for markets is precisely the American midterm elections and their impact on foreign policy. The logic is simple: the closer November’s elections are, the greater the temptation for the White House to use foreign conflicts to mobilize its electorate. Hence Japanese fear that the strike on Iran is not a “one-off operation” but the beginning of a chain of actions in which Washington, guided by domestic audiences, may take further unilateral steps — including in Asia.

Alongside this, concerns are growing within Japan’s political class and the quasi-governmental environment that the US–Israeli war with Iran pushes toward a more general normalization of forcible revisions of the status quo. Statements by centrist party leaders stress that “forcible change” is an unacceptable mode of behavior for both Iran and the US with Israel. Party-aligned press of coalition allies states directly that strikes on Iran aimed not only at military infrastructure but at the regime as a whole violate the basic principle of the UN Charter, which prohibits the threat or use of force as a means of changing a situation. At the same time those texts contain three rhetorical layers at once: on the one hand criticism of “unilateral forcible change”; on the other a focus on the necessity of protecting Japanese citizens in the region at all costs; and third, an embedded reminder of Japan’s “special position” as a key US ally in East Asia.

Against this background the upcoming visit to Washington by the new Japanese prime minister, who in February received a powerful mandate in the lower house, becomes an important marker: can Tokyo maintain a balance between supporting its American ally and preserving the image of a country rooted in international law. Expert essays note that contemporary Japan “by circumstances has acquired a special position” between weakening Western cooperation and increasing aggressiveness from Russia and China, and now it will have to prove in practice that its orientation toward the US does not mean support for any “war for regime change.”

Interestingly, in Japan the discussion of the US war with Iran is directly linked to lessons from US domestic politics. Political talk shows repeat a grim formula: “the American president is overthrown by the opposition, and the Japanese prime minister — by his own party.” Coined by a veteran observer of Washington and Tokyo, this image is used to warn the Japanese prime minister: do not blindly follow Trump in hopes of a durable personal alliance — American policy can turn very quickly, and responsibility for a course that ties Japan to risky US military adventures will remain with him.

France, for its part, recognizes in this same war an old but sharpened conflict between the American logic of the “decisive leader” and the European tradition of multilateral diplomacy. Analytical pieces in Parisian publications and think tanks describe Washington’s line as a conscious abandonment of reliance on international control mechanisms — from the IAEA to the UN Security Council. Notably, Le Grand Continent, analyzing the escalation, quotes in detail IAEA head Rafael Grossi, who as early as February reminded that despite the 2025 strikes, “most of the materials accumulated by Iran before June of last year still lie where they were at the moment of the attacks.” This allows French authors to formulate the main reproach to America: betting on unilateral force not only fails to solve the nuclear problem but also destroys the very idea of international control, making any future agreement with Iran even less realistic.

From this flows a typically French motive: the need for Europe’s “strategic autonomy.” The public discusses not only the Lebanese conference in Paris but also possible scenarios: if the US gets bogged down in a war with Iran, to what extent can the EU pursue its own Middle East policy without becoming the junior partner of an American “regime change” agenda? On radio and in columns for a general audience the simple question is asked: “Have the US entered a war?” — and behind that question lies the fear that Europe itself will bear the brunt in the event of another wave of terrorism, radicalization and refugees caused by an American military campaign.

The three countries ultimately converge on one point: the current escalation is a moment of truth for America’s image. But their interpretations then diverge. In Israel’s worldview America appears simultaneously as a shield and a mirror: Israeli elites see in it their own inclination for forceful solutions, their belief that “if you remove the regime’s top, everything will change.” Critics in Israel, invoking the American experiences in Iraq and Afghanistan, warn that the prospect of a protracted war with Iran involving active US participation could not only explode the region but also accelerate the degradation of democracy within America itself — under the pretext of fighting “terrorism and a nuclear threat.”

The Japanese perspective is much more cautious and detached. For Tokyo the US remain an unrivaled security guarantor amid the rise of China and Russia, and that is why Japanese politicians choose their words carefully: while condemning any “forcible revision” of the status quo, they avoid direct blows at Washington, directing criticism toward Iran and the abstract “logic of force.” But economists and analysts in private conversations and specialist media speak rather frankly that Trump’s “foreign-policy adventures” increase risks to the global economy, energy and sea lanes upon which Japan depends far more than the US. In their vocabulary this sounds like a question about the “cost of American unpredictability.”

France, finally, dons again the role of “state commentator” and “second pole” of the West. Its experts and journalists view US actions from the height of historical memory — from the 2003 Iraq campaign to attempts to revive the nuclear deal with Iran. Against that background the current war looks like a return to the most controversial version of American leadership: leadership that does not consult allies and presents them with a fait accompli. But unlike the early 2000s, France is now less ready for an open split with Washington; instead it is trying to build a “softening perimeter” around the American war — from support for the Lebanese army to attempts to keep at least some diplomatic channels alive.

The common conclusion from this diversity of reactions is paradoxical. The more actively and harshly the US act, the less room there is for a clear answer to the question “is this good or bad.” In Israel on the streets there are those who thank America for the strike on Iran and those who fear the war will destroy chances for peace and increase the country’s isolation. In Tokyo the same events are first and foremost seen as another signal to review its own defense policy and to cautiously build up capabilities so as not to become completely hostage to others’ decisions. In Paris the American bombardment of Tehran becomes a reason to talk again about European autonomy — and a reminder that without the US Europe is still not ready to guarantee security in the Middle East, nor even on its eastern border.

Thus forms a new mosaic of perceptions of America: no longer simply the “leader of the free world” nor merely an “empire,” but a contradictory giant subject to its own electoral cycles, which for some remains a saving anchor, for others a source of strategic instability, and for everyone a factor it is no longer possible to ignore. Japanese calls for “realistic diplomacy,” Israeli debates over the price of the alliance with Washington and French reflections on a “war for regime change” together paint a picture: the world increasingly doubts that US force automatically means order, and more and more seeks ways to live in a world where American power is only one, albeit dominant, element of a complex and worrying system.

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Trump, Donbass and Tariffs: How the World Debates U.S. Leadership

At the turn of February and March 2026, America once again found itself at the center of other countries’ debates, although within the United States this concentration of attention has long been taken for granted. For Ukraine, China and Australia, the current agenda around Washington is shaped by three main storylines: the Trump administration’s attempt to accelerate a “peace at any price” in Russia’s war against Ukraine; the domestic American struggle over global tariffs and its consequences for China and the world market; and the broader question of how much longer the U.S. can be relied upon as a predictable partner in security and economics. Each of these threads is refracted through local lenses in different ways, but together they provide a rare cross-section of how America is seen from various points on the globe today.

In Ukrainian discourse the U.S. and Donald Trump personally are discussed primarily through the prism of peace negotiations and possible territorial concessions. Ukrainian media are closely analyzing the American “peace plan,” the 28 points of which were published at the end of 2025 and became the starting point for the current trilateral Ukraine–U.S.–Russia talks. In a large report on the meeting of negotiating teams in Geneva, Ukrainska Pravda describes how the Kyiv team — from head of military intelligence Kyrylo Budanov to representatives of the National Security and Defense Council — is trying to fit American proposals into frameworks acceptable to Ukrainian society, noting that the U.S. not only insists on political agreements but is also ready to monitor a ceasefire regime if one is reached. The piece emphasizes that Washington has effectively become not just an ally, but a co‑author of the architecture of a future agreement; in Moscow this is perceived with obvious irritation, while in Kyiv it is met with anxious hope. Authors Roman Romanyuk and Angelina Strashkulich describe the Ukraine–U.S.–Russia negotiating triangle as a space where the American side simultaneously acts as guarantor and a hard arbiter of the terms of peace, which in Kyiv produces both gratitude and fears about possible pressure from the White House.

These fears are fed by leaks to Western media, which are immediately picked up by both Ukrainian and Russian press. Bloomberg’s reference to a U.S. plan “to get Ukraine to give up all of Donbass” became a sensation in the Russian‑language information space. Lenta.ru, covering excerpts from that piece, phrases it almost without nuance: “The U.S. will push Ukraine to give up all of Donbass,” while emphasizing that in return Washington expects a freeze of the conflict along the current front line. For a Russian audience this is presented as proof that even the U.S. is willing to recognize Moscow’s territorial gains, whereas for Ukrainian commentators such formulations are an alarming sign of the potential price of American guarantees. Ukrainian analytical outlets like ZN.ua, in scenario reviews relying on assessments from The Wall Street Journal, write that the American vision for ending the war is “simple: Ukraine gives up territory that for more than ten years was a cornerstone of its defense against Russia. In return, Kyiv is promised a Western military shield,” stressing that for Moscow this is anathema and for Ukrainian society a potentially painful compromise.

Against this backdrop, the question of Donald Trump’s personal role in the Ukrainian peace process becomes a separate theme. Ukrainian press does not forget last year’s scandalous White House meeting that ended in an actual quarrel between Trump and Volodymyr Zelensky, after which the American leader said the Ukrainian president “snubbed the United States” and was “not ready for peace.” In the piece “Trump said Zelensky snubbed the U.S. and is not ready for peace,” Ukrainska Pravda reporters cite his words that he “doesn’t want an advantage, but peace” and that Zelensky can “come back when he’s ready for peace.” This is quoted not as courtly chronicle but as a symptom: Ukrainian society sees that the person controlling key levers of assistance tends to treat negotiations as a personal drama and publicly punish those who disagree. Trump’s personality is described even more harshly in Mykhailo Dubyniansky’s analytical column “The Planet’s Chief Trust‑Fund Kid,” also published in Ukrainska Pravda. The author compares the American president to a “typical trust‑fund kid,” inheriting power from “Mother America” that does not match the scale of his personality, and accuses him of “squandering the political capital the United States earned after 1945,” trading the reputation of a reliable partner for his own whims and need for showy splendor. That tone is telling: even while acknowledging critical dependence on Washington, some Ukrainian intellectuals allow themselves extremely sharp personal criticism of the American leader, seeing in him a threat not only to Ukraine but to the global order.

At the same time Ukrainian diplomacy is forced to rationalize reality as much as possible: the same press reminds readers that Kyiv officially welcomed Trump’s plan to end the war in Gaza, calling it “an important contribution to the search for a just and sustainable settlement.” In a statement by the Foreign Ministry quoted by Ukrainska Pravda, it was emphasized that the plan should “be based on the principles of international law and take into account the legitimate rights and aspirations of people in Israel and Palestine.” For Ukrainian diplomats, demonstrating loyalty to Washington on other foreign‑policy directions is a way to secure maximum support on their core issue. Thus a dual optic emerges: in official rhetoric the U.S. remains the main guarantor and partner; in expert columns it is a dangerous “trust‑fund president” who can at any moment change tone and the terms of a deal.

China’s discussion about the U.S. these days is focused primarily on the failure of the American tariff “super‑initiative” and offers Beijing a rare occasion to speak of a strategic American mistake as confirmation of its own correctness. Chinese portals and blogs close to the patriotic segment enthusiastically quote the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision that declared Trump’s so‑called “global tariff” unconstitutional. One strikingly emotional headline on Sohu reads: “Pulled hard for three days — and the U.S. finally gave up. China predicted the outcome of this global war.” The author recounts in detail how “Trump’s tariff cudgel” relied on an expansive interpretation of the International Emergency Economic Powers Act, allowing the White House to set an average rate of 32% on Chinese imports. After the court decision, he writes, “to avoid legal risks, the White House launched an ‘everyone gets the same’ variant that unexpectedly lowered tariffs on Chinese goods from 32% to 24%” — presented as an almost anecdotal failure of American strategy.

In Chinese commentary the geopolitical moral of the story takes precedence over the legal aspects. Authors emphasize that despite U.S. attempts to build a front of allies who paid Washington “for protection” in the form of voluntary tariff concessions, China ultimately emerged as the principal beneficiary. Citing a Morgan Stanley report, Chinese commentators note that the American financial sector is already openly saying that Beijing is the “beneficiary of the U.S.’s internal judicial struggle,” and that allies who paid the political price for participating in the tariff coalition lost their “privileges” overnight. For a Chinese audience this serves as proof that the strategy of long‑term endurance — “贸易战没有赢家” (“there are no winners in a trade war”) — ultimately proved successful, and that the American bet on unilateral economic coercion crumbled under its own legal weight.

Against this background, discussion of Trump’s upcoming visit to Beijing and a possible “big deal” on purchases of American agricultural products takes on a more pragmatic shade. Chinese outlets, summarizing Western analytical pieces, note that Beijing will most likely satisfy part of Washington’s demands on purchase volumes but, as the portal Wanwei Readers (万维读者网) relays citing former U.S. Chamber of Commerce international affairs head Myron Brilliant, “Xi Jinping is not going to gift Trump a ‘big and beautiful’ agreement.” This is an important detail: Chinese commentators emphasize that the U.S. is forced to come to Beijing not from a position of strength but as a party seeking a foreign‑policy “achievement” for domestic consumption. They write that Trump will try to “package” any interim agreement as a major diplomatic breakthrough to offset the political costs of the tariff adventure and rising prices at home. In doing so China demonstratively shows it no longer sees the U.S. as the sole architect of the rules of the game, treating Washington as a nervous but still useful counterparty.

China’s view of American foreign policy extends beyond trade: experts in Beijing are watching closely how the U.S. is simultaneously trying to pressure Russia in the Ukrainian conflict and playing a risky game in the Middle East, where escalation with Iran already affects oil markets. In an analytical piece on the military forum World Forum (世界论坛网), experts from Barclays and Eurasia Group are cited through a Chinese filter: their warnings that a failure of U.S. talks with Iran and a possible blockade of the Strait of Hormuz could knock out up to 20% of global oil supplies and derail all “soft‑landing” scenarios for global inflation are presented as examples of how Washington’s overestimation of its own capabilities destabilizes the world economy. For China, which positions itself as a more responsible supporter of global market stability, it is convenient in this context to underline that it is precisely American tactical moves that make the energy market hostage to the political ambitions of the White House.

The Australian debate about the U.S. may seem less dramatic at first glance, but underneath it is connected to the same questions of trust and dependence. Although there have been few loud scandals around Washington in recent days in Canberra, local analytical and business outlets continue to discuss the risks posed to Australia by American economic and strategic policy. The focus is the combination of U.S. tariff policy, which affects global supply chains, and the unpredictability of American foreign policy — from threats of military action against Mexico over migration, reported by Ukrainian and European media citing The Wall Street Journal, to Trump’s willingness to pressure NATO allies on Ukraine and demand “results by July 4” — the symbolic date of the 250th anniversary of American independence. For Australian experts, accustomed to the narrative of the U.S. as the pillar of the postwar order in the Asia‑Pacific region, such a habit of setting deadlines and shaping complex international processes around domestic celebrations looks like a warning: if Washington is willing to treat even the Ukrainian war as background for an internal fete, it could at any moment recalculate the balance of benefits and obligations regarding Australia.

At the same time the AUKUS strategic alliance and Australia’s dependence on American technologies and intelligence leave Canberra little room for sharp public criticism. Local columns and expert comments speak of the need to “hedge” risks by strengthening ties with Europe and Japan, while acknowledging that there is currently no alternative to the American “nuclear umbrella” and access to advanced military technology. In this respect the Australian discourse echoes the Ukrainian one: in both places the U.S. is simultaneously seen as an indispensable guarantor and as a source of risk due to personal and institutional unpredictability. The difference is that Ukraine is already paying for this with citizens’ lives and territory, whereas Australia — for now — pays only in nerves and strategic calculations.

It is interesting how Ukrainian, Chinese and Australian voices, without collusion, converge on one point: American leadership is no longer perceived as natural and indisputable. Ukrainian authors like Dubyniansky write that Trump is “squandering” the trust capital the U.S. accumulated over decades, turning a superpower into an instrument of his own ego. Chinese commentators, watching the failure of the tariff strategy and the country’s internal legal constraints, conclude that the “empire” is not only not omnipotent but is also a hostage to its own institutions, forced to juggle emergency measures and then roll them back under pressure from courts and markets. Australian experts, in a quieter but persistent voice, speak of the need to adapt to a world where the U.S. remains the strongest player but no longer guarantees stability and predictability.

At the same time all three countries see America as not only a source of problems but also a resource for solving their own challenges. Ukraine, despite all criticism, continues to count on the American “shield” and on Washington’s participation in postwar security guarantees, even if that entails painful territorial compromises. China, while criticizing tariff policy, readily capitalizes on any internal failures in the American machine to improve trade conditions and weaken the anti‑China coalition. Australia, doubting the predictability of the White House, still builds its long‑term defense plans around American technology and intelligence, understanding that there are no real substitutes for now.

Ultimately the current international debate about the U.S. is not only a dispute over Donbass or import tariff rates. It is a much broader conversation about the price the world is willing to pay for American leadership when the White House is occupied by a man called in Kyiv “the planet’s chief trust‑fund kid,” in Beijing an impulsive but necessary trading partner, and in Canberra indispensable but no longer flawless as a security guarantor. And until Washington itself gives a convincing answer to what matters more — the stability of the system or an ostentatious gesture for another round date — Ukraine, China and Australia will continue to build their strategies on the assumption that the United States remains powerful, but not always prudent.

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How the World Sees Trump’s America: Ukraine, Greenland and a New Balance of Power

At the start of 2026, the United States again became the central stage for political debates far beyond Washington, but how the events are viewed in France, Turkey and Russia differs significantly. Donald Trump’s second presidency, his ultimatums to Ukraine, the escalation of the Greenland crisis and the large‑scale US withdrawal from a number of international agreements have become the lens through which various countries are rethinking not only America but their own place in the world. For some this confirms long‑standing fears, for others — a window of opportunity, and for others — a risk of being left alone with regional crises.

A key recurring theme in all three countries has been Ukraine: attitudes toward Washington’s new line in the war with Russia, toward the idea of a “deal,” and toward the notion that the United States no longer wants to be the guarantor of the postwar order. The Greenland story is no less notable — attempts by the US to increase control over the strategic island are seen in Europe as a challenge and in Russia as a sign of a long‑term Arctic game. Finally, attention has focused on Trump’s memorandum to withdraw the US from dozens of international organizations and treaties: in some places it is seen as the definitive collapse of the “liberal order,” in others — as a chance to occupy the vacated spaces.

One of the most discussed topics in the French and Russian press has been the war in Ukraine and the American attempt to force Kyiv into elections and a peace on terms involving territorial concessions. French L’Express, drawing on Financial Times reporting, examines the American ultimatum in detail: at Donald Trump’s demand, Kyiv must hold presidential elections and submit a peace agreement with Russia to a referendum that would include ceding Donetsk and Luhansk no later than 15 May 2026 — otherwise American security guarantees are threatened. The outlet emphasizes that Washington wants “to close the Ukrainian file by summer in order to focus on the November domestic elections,” and explains that for Paris this creates an extremely awkward fork in the road: either follow Washington, or try to build its own, more long‑term strategy of supporting Kyiv, risking an open conflict with a NATO ally. (lexpress.fr)

The French intellectual press goes beyond dry description and sees this move as a symptom of a deeper transformation in American foreign policy. For example, in Desk Russie one author, analyzing the evolution of the American line from the 1994 Budapest Memorandum to today, writes that Trump’s demand to effectively turn military assistance to Ukraine into a paid service is “more than a betrayal of the Ukrainians, who in 1994 took Washington’s security guarantees seriously in exchange for nuclear disarmament.” The author stresses that such transactional logic undermines the very idea of nuclear non‑proliferation: future vulnerable states will conclude that without their own nuclear shield “great power guarantees are worth little.” (desk-russie.eu)

In the Russian expert discourse the same Washington line is read very differently — as a long‑awaited window of opportunity. Le Grand Continent publishes an interview with Russian international relations specialist Oleg Barabanov, presented there as “a translation of a conversation for Argumenty i Fakty.” Barabanov, an EU security policy specialist, argues that the current US is increasingly ideologically “converging with Russia” and that the Kremlin might view as advantageous a scenario in which Europe continues to support Ukraine without direct American cover. He points out that in terms of financial aid and arms deliveries the EU already surpasses Washington, and draws the provocative conclusion: “Brussels could quite well replace the United States in Ukraine” — except in the field of space reconnaissance. At the same time the Russian expert doubts whether European societies are ready for a long, costly war and whether this would not fuel the rise of anti‑system parties. (legrandcontinent.eu)

Thus a curious triangle of perception is taking shape. Paris sees American fatigue with Ukraine as a threat to the very foundation of European security and simultaneously as a chance to prove that the continent can act independently. Moscow, by contrast, is counting on a rift between Washington and Brussels and hopes that Europe will not be ready to fully replace the US — normalization of relations between Russia and America would also please the Kremlin. Turkish press, where Ukraine issues are traditionally viewed through the prism of NATO, the Black Sea region and the grain deal, often interprets Washington’s new gestures as an invitation to Ankara to bargain: if the US reduces direct engagement, Turkey’s value as a mediator and a regional power center rises. Turkish analytical columns on “Trump’s America” emphasize the transactional character of the new policy: this is a partner who will demand “concrete payment” from allies, but who is also prepared to turn a blind eye to their internal peculiarities so long as they do not interfere with his deal.

The second major storyline, discussed differently but very emotionally in France and Russia, is the Greenland crisis. For the French and wider European press, US claims on Greenland are not just an exotic whim of Trump but part of a larger geopolitical game in the Arctic, where control over new sea lanes, resources and military infrastructure is at stake. Russian sources are particularly detailed here: a Russian‑language article on “US Claims on Greenland” describes how after his 2024 reelection Trump made possession of Greenland an “absolute necessity” for national security and threatened to impose “very high” tariffs against Denmark if it resisted. The text analyzes the failure of diplomatic talks on 14 January 2026 at the White House with the foreign ministers of Denmark and Greenland and the subsequent decision by several countries to send troops to the island, which prompted a new round of Trump’s threats about additional tariffs. (ru.wikipedia.org)

The broader European context is this: Greenland is perceived as a “laboratory” for how the US will treat its allies in the Trump‑2 era. Unlike the classic rhetoric of “shared values” and the “transatlantic community,” the current White House speaks the language of pressure, trade and unilateral proclamations of “vital interests.” French commentary evokes comparisons with interwar policies, when great powers attempted to redraw the map in their favor using economic and military pressure. Notably, Trump himself, speaking at the World Economic Forum in Davos on 21 January 2026, was forced to publicly assure that the US “will not use military force to establish control over Greenland” and that a “basis for a future agreement” with NATO had been reached. The European Union in these debates most often appears as a cautious player: it is important for the EU not to allow the Greenland conflict to split NATO or to become a precedent in which Washington can pressure individual European countries with tariffs and threats, forcing territorial deals. (ru.wikipedia.org)

Russian commentators, for their part, see in the Greenland story above all confirmation that the Arctic is becoming the main theater of long‑term great‑power rivalry. If for Paris and Copenhagen the issue is about sovereignty and solidarity within the EU and NATO, in Moscow it is read as a struggle for control over future logistical routes and resources, in which Russia and the US will be the principal rivals and Europe will find itself in between. Russian analyses emphasize that an increased American presence in Greenland is both a challenge and a justification for further militarization of Russia’s North and for deepening cooperation with China in the Arctic.

The third major block of discussion concerns the broader transformation of the US role in the world. In France this is often framed by the question: “Are the United States withdrawing from the role of architect of the international order and becoming simply another great power pursuing transactional interests?” Think tanks like Fondation pour la Recherche Stratégique have for several years warned that Washington is rethinking its defense strategy based on lessons from Ukraine and growing competition with China, and that Europe should prepare for a world where American protection is less automatic and more conditional. (frstrategie.org)

Trump’s memorandum of 7 January 2026 on immediate US withdrawal from dozens of international conventions and agencies — from UN structures to climate agreements — became for many European and Turkish observers a symbol of a final rupture with the era of “liberal internationalism.” Russian accounts of Trump’s political biography note that the move involves 31 structures, including notably the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change, and that the administration presents the step as a restoration of America’s “full sovereignty.” (ru.wikipedia.org)

French and Turkish commentary interprets this step in two ways. On one hand, as a serious blow to global governance — from climate to health, where without the US it is impossible to marshal the critical mass of resources and political will. On the other hand, as a spur to regionalization: the EU is discussing how to strengthen its own climate and health coordination mechanisms, Turkey is eyeing opportunities to maneuver between Western and Eastern formats, and Russia and China see a chance to accelerate the creation of alternative institutions less dependent on Washington. In the Russian discourse around the book by journalists Jake Tapper and Alex Thompson, “Original Sin,” about Joe Biden’s decline and its concealment by his circle, the conclusion is even sharper: for part of the Russian audience contemporary America is a country whose elites have lost control over the political process, and allies can no longer be confident either in the stability of US policy or in the competence of its leaders. (ru.wikipedia.org)

A particular interest in all three countries is the purely “transactional” component of the new American policy — a vivid example, besides the Ukrainian ultimatum, is the agreement on Ukrainian natural resources and a reconstruction fund. French Wikipedia, relying on English‑language press materials, describes in detail the “Mineral Resources Agreement between Ukraine and the United States,” under which a joint investment fund is created and Ukraine agrees to transfer up to 50% of future revenues from state natural resources to it. As French authors recall, Trump initially tied continued American aid directly to access to Ukrainian rare earths, hydrocarbons and uranium, and the agreement itself is being discussed in Kyiv and European capitals as a way to “thank” and “compensate” Washington for the volume of aid already provided. (fr.wikipedia.org)

In France this provokes mixed feelings: on the one hand, it is acknowledged that without long‑term investments of this kind the physical reconstruction of Ukraine will be extremely difficult; on the other hand, there are fears that Ukraine risks becoming a semi‑dependent raw‑material appendage of the US. Russian commentators, conversely, use this as evidence that the West is fighting Russia “for resources” rather than for principles, and interpret the agreement as a form of “neocolonial exploitation.” In Turkey the resource dimension of the conflict resonates with Ankara’s own ambitions in the Black Sea and the Eastern Mediterranean: some Turkish commentators urge Ankara to more actively offer its services for postwar reconstruction, not wanting to concede all future contracts to American and European corporations.

A common motif is noticeable across all three countries: America is no longer perceived as an unconditional guarantor of values or security, but it remains a central actor without whom no large power configuration is possible. The French debate revolves around how to turn this situation into a stimulus for Europe’s strategic autonomy — while avoiding a final break with the US. The Russian debate is about how to use Washington’s “reorientation” and fatigue with European problems to consolidate its gains in Ukraine and strengthen positions in the Arctic and the Global South. The Turkish debate centers on the idea that in an era of transactional, fragmented America the importance of middle‑weight regional powers grows — those that can simultaneously bargain with Washington, Moscow, Brussels and Beijing.

All these different viewpoints converge on one point: Donald Trump’s second term has become a convenient — if alarming — reason to rethink the very category of “the West” and the role of the US within it. In Paris, Ankara and Moscow people increasingly no longer write about “American leadership” as something taken for granted, but about competing centers of power in which the US is only the most powerful, but no longer the sole architect of the rules. And it will be precisely how Washington conducts itself in the Ukrainian conflict, in the Greenland dispute and on the issue of international institutions in the coming months that will determine whether America in the eyes of these countries becomes the main guarantor of a new order — or its main catalyst for disintegration.

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The World Through Washington's Prism: How Turkey, Russia and Australia See the US Today

At the end of February 2026, the United States simultaneously appears as the main military actor, a key trading partner, and a source of systemic uncertainty for allies and adversaries. US‑led strikes on Iran, Washington's tariff war with the rest of the world, the build‑up of American missile defense and the nuclear triad, the struggle for critical raw materials, and Turkey's attempts to balance between Washington and Moscow — all these storylines form a mosaic of how different countries view America and their future alongside it. In Turkey, security questions and US pressure on its foreign trade come to the fore; in Russia, concern about Washington's military superiority and criticism of its “realpolitik”; in Australia, a painful mix of allied loyalty on security and growing irritation on economic issues.

One of the sharpest topics in recent days has been American military leadership in the strike on Iran. In Australia, this episode is perceived through the prism of traditional alliance with the US and at the same time fear of escalation in a region where Australian citizens and interests are present. Prime Minister Anthony Albanese openly supported Washington's actions, saying Australia “supports US actions against Iran” and “stands with the Iranian people's struggle against oppression,” stressing the need to prevent Tehran from approaching nuclear weapons and threatening global security, in a speech quoted in The Guardian’s piece on Canberra’s reaction to the strike on Iran. As the publication noted on 28 February 2026, the government simultaneously tightened travel warnings for Iran, Israel and Lebanon, reclassifying them as “do not travel” and in effect urging Australians to leave the region, which shows that Australian support for the US comes with awareness of the cost of possible escalation and risks to its own citizens and economy. Against this backdrop, local Greens accuse Albanese of supporting “illegal escalation,” demonstrating an internal Australian split: part of society sees the United States as a guarantor of order, part sees it as a source of new wars.

Turkey views the same “US — security — Iran” bundle quite differently. For Ankara, the immediate issue is not so much Iran’s nuclear program as security on its own borders and autonomy in decision‑making. Notably, it was the US embassy in Ankara that on 28 February issued an advisory asking US citizens to avoid travel to southeastern regions of Turkey bordering Iran, Iraq and Syria, effectively pointing to the risk of instability spilling across borders; Belarusian agency Sputnik reported this, emphasizing that Washington is operating on a scenario of possible escalation around Iran. Against this background, President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, according to the same reports, insists that Turkey has “no problems in the sky or on the borders” in connection with attacks on Iranian territory, demonstratively emphasizing the country's ability to control the situation without external oversight. The Turkish discourse regarding the US is ambivalent: on one hand, Washington is seen as a source of risk that forces Turkey to explain itself to its own population and to counter panic narratives; on the other, the United States remains for Ankara the main foreign‑policy pole on which its NATO ties and access to Western markets depend.

In the Russian media space and expert circles, the same US military activity fits into a broader image of the United States as a state steadily increasing its global military power and not inclined to compromise. In a January forecast by the Institute of World Economy and International Relations of the Russian Academy of Sciences, cited by Moskovsky Komsomolets in the article “RAN predicted strengthening of US defense potential,” American policy in 2026 is described as a course toward strengthening missile defense and air defense systems, modernizing the nuclear triad and actively renewing the navy, including plans to build a series of combat ships of a new class, as well as implementing an anti‑missile defense architecture called the “Golden Dome,” estimated in the tens, and by some estimates hundreds, of billions of dollars. Such analysis is presented not merely as a military overview: for a Russian audience it is an argument that the US does not intend to give up military dominance, and therefore Moscow cannot count on sustained disarmament or an equal dialogue. A motif of a “protracted arms race set by Washington” and doubt that the US‑declared “realistic” national security strategy leaves real room for compromise appears in commentary. This is discussed by Alexey Podberezkin, director of the Center for Military‑Political Problems at MGIMO, in his column for TASS about the upcoming Munich Security Conference, reminding readers that any European security discussion inevitably runs up against US strategy and their refusal to “really take into account the interests of other centres of power” in that document.

The second major cluster of topics, linking Australia and Turkey and indirectly touching Russia, is US economic pressure and trade wars. In Australia, the discussion today is focused on a new 10 percent “temporary import surcharge” the US is applying to virtually all imports after a significant part of Donald Trump's tariff “day of exemption” was ruled illegal by the US Supreme Court. According to news.com.au, in a piece about how “Australia is lobbying the US for zero tariffs” published in late February, Trade Minister Don Farrell called the new levy “unjustified” and said its removal would be the main subject of talks with US Trade Representative Jameson Greer. Canberra is particularly irritated that Washington is effectively nullifying the economic meaning of existing free trade agreements while simultaneously threatening to raise the duty to 15 percent. Australian commentators stress the duality of American policy: in their view, the US demands strategic loyalty from allies on security, but increasingly behaves as harshly in economic matters as it does toward competitors. In another piece from the same outlet about a possible rise of the universal tariff to 15 percent, it is emphasized that Canberra is “considering all options” and is trying to secure an exemption, while opposition senator James Patterson warns that such a move “would harm trade relations between Australia and the US” and undermine trust in Washington's long‑term predictability as an economic partner.

The Turkish perspective on US economic pressure is colored differently: the focus is not so much on tariffs as on the sanctions and political lever through which Washington seeks to reconfigure trade flows. Russian agency RIA Novosti, in a 24 February piece titled “Turkey under US pressure shifts trade focus away from Russia,” describes how Ankara, amid increasing American pressure, has begun to reorient part of its trade turnover away from Russia. According to the agency, mutual trade between Russia and Turkey for 2025 amounted to about $49.1 billion — still a large figure, but 6.6 percent less than a year earlier. Erdoğan himself noted in the autumn that the US has already become the second largest destination for Turkish exports and the fifth largest source of imports, and that Ankara and Washington have set a joint goal of reaching $100 billion in trade turnover in the coming years. In Turkish business and analytical circles, judging by reviews such as a recent report by investment company Gedik Yatırım on “possible global and regional effects of changes in Turkey‑US relations,” ties with Washington are seen both as a source of risk and huge economic potential: the more Turkey integrates into American supply chains and the financial system, the stronger the real leverage of the US over its foreign policy and trade with third countries, primarily Russia. This provokes an internal debate about whether Turkey is paying too high a geopolitical price for economic growth.

Russia in this context views Turkish maneuvers as a direct consequence of US pressure and an indirect loss for itself. Discussing the reduction in Russian‑Turkish trade and Ankara’s orientation toward the US, Russian commentators emphasize that Washington is purposefully “squeezing” Moscow out of economic niches, using the market and the dollar as tools of political influence. This motive echoes previous Russian analyses of American trade wars in other regions, where, according to some authors, Washington similarly “tightens the screws” on neighbors to achieve renegotiation of agreements or reorientation, as described, for example, in publications about US attempts to displace China from strategic infrastructure projects in Latin America. For a Russian audience, the Turkey story confirms the thesis that for Washington any partners are merely elements of a broader strategy to contain rivals.

The third important line is the struggle for control over critical resources and technologies, where the US is increasingly reluctant to rely on the market and more on “friendly” geopolitics. Australian media have been widely discussing the country's role in the American “friendshoring” strategy — shifting supply chains of critical minerals to allies. In The Australian’s piece on how “America is building Western demand with Australia to counter China’s leverage in rare earths,” Pentagon representatives are quoted as saying China today supplies up to 95 percent of the world’s heavy rare earths, and the US depends on it for about 90 percent of critical minerals. In response, Washington is investing in Australian projects — including a joint Alcoa‑Sojitz project to extract gallium and Arafura’s Nolans deposit — building an $8.5 billion “critical minerals flow,” with about $1 billion contributed by the US. Governments of both countries retain rights to part of the production and are simultaneously funding research to find substitutes for elements like dysprosium and terbium. In Australian discourse this is presented as a rare case where US strategic pressure creates economic and technological bonuses for Canberra: local commentators speak of “elevating Australia’s status as a key ally in confronting China” and the opportunity to turn resources into long‑term political influence. Yet a question immediately arises: will the country become too dependent on American defense procurement, and will security displace its own climate and environmental priorities?

For Turkey and Russia the “resource” pressure from the US sounds different but the meaning is similar. Turkish analysts point out that shifting Turkish exports and imports towards the US increases the country’s ties to the dollar system and American regulation, making it vulnerable to potential sanctions or regulatory measures. Against the background of discussions of new American restrictions on companies violating sanctions against Russia and Iran, the tone in the Turkish press grows cautious: working too closely with Russian suppliers may provoke Washington’s displeasure, while too rapid reorientation to the US risks angering Moscow and domestic industry oriented toward eastern markets. In Russia, US control over critical technologies and resources is linked to the aforementioned arms race and an attempt to build a “technological iron curtain” around the West: Russian experts emphasize that “friendly shoring” of supply chains toward US allies, like Australia and Canada, effectively closes Moscow’s access to a number of key materials and markets, which in the long term pushes it toward accelerated import substitution and a closer alliance with China.

Finally, a distinct but important layer in responses to the US is debate over its political philosophy and image as a global leader. In Russia, in preparation for the Munich Security Conference, experts like Alexey Podberezkin in TASS stress that the new US National Security Strategy, while professing commitment to multilateralism, in fact fixes a “realpolitik of national interests” in which Washington sees itself as the guarantor of order but leaves minimal space for alternative centers of power. In Turkish discourse similar motifs appear regarding how the US uses democracy and human‑rights issues to pressure Ankara, while simultaneously needing Turkey as an intermediary in negotiations between Washington and Moscow — be it technical embassy‑level meetings, as in Istanbul, or discussions about Ukraine and the architecture of European security. This creates among Turkish elites the feeling that the US perceives the country more as an instrument than as an equal partner.

In Australia, by contrast, criticism of the US is mainly pragmatic and rarely questions the idea of American leadership itself. Even when local politicians and experts sharply condemn the new tariffs or warn of the danger of escalation with Iran, they usually start from the premise that there is no alternative to the American security umbrella and that Canberra’s task is to “influence Washington from within” and secure consideration of Australian interests. In this sense the Australian perspective is closer to classic Atlanticism than the Turkish or Russian views, but precisely for that reason economic and trade frictions are felt especially painfully: an ally that demands security sacrifices while simultaneously raising taxes on your goods irritates even the staunchest supporters of the alliance.

If one tries to reduce all these disparate reactions to a few common themes, a fairly coherent picture emerges. First, even allies increasingly no longer see the US as a “global public good” and more as a state that consistently capitalizes on its military, financial and technological superiority, expecting loyalty from partners in exchange for access to markets, security, or supply chains. In Australia this sparks a debate about the cost of alliance; in Turkey — a painful bargain between economic gains and strategic autonomy; in Russia — the conviction that dialogue is possible only from a position of strength.

Second, in all three countries the US is at once perceived as a threat and as a necessary partner. For Ankara, Washington is an authoritative NATO member and the largest trading counterparty, but also a state whose pressure forces distancing from Russia and maneuvering in sensitive issues such as Kurdish settlement or relations with Iran. For Moscow, the US is the main adversary setting the parameters of the arms race and sanctions, but without negotiating with it it is impossible to resolve the Ukrainian conflict or reduce tensions in Europe. For Canberra, the White House is the guarantor of regional security and a key investor in critical minerals, but also the author of tariff decisions that undermine the very idea of open trade.

And finally, assessments of the US increasingly feature a motif of unpredictability. Military strikes, massive defense programs, sharp tariff moves and quick adjustments to sanctions policy create a sense of continual “compression” of time: Turkey must almost in real time rebuild trade chains and explain itself to neighbors, Russia must annually rewrite long‑term strategic forecasts, Australia must revise economic calculations according to Washington’s latest decisions. In this reality responses to the US are less determined by ideological sympathy or antipathy and more by cold calculation about how best to survive and preserve room for maneuver in a world where America remains the principal, but by no means uncontested, center of gravity.

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How the world sees America today: wars, tariffs and doubts about democracy

At the end of February 2026, attention to the image of the United States abroad is focused again — not because of a single event, but because several narratives have overlapped. In Asia and the Middle East the US is simultaneously acting as a military power conducting, together with Israel, a large-scale operation against Iran; as an aggressive trading partner using tariffs as a universal lever of pressure; and as a country whose internal democratic system is itself being questioned because of the influence of tech giants on elections. South Korea, Japan and Saudi Arabia read these narratives differently, but in all three cases America no longer looks like the unquestioned "anchor of stability" it was perceived to be in previous decades.

The first major storyline in recent days is the sudden escalation around Iran. According to regional and Egyptian media reports, on February 28 the US, together with Israel, carried out a large-scale military strike on Iran after weeks of mounting threats and force deployments to the region, and almost simultaneously the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, according to Iranian and Western agencies, launched a massive missile barrage against four large American bases in Qatar, Kuwait, Bahrain and the UAE. Against the background of these reports, the French agency AFP recorded explosions in the Riyadh area, which immediately heightened nervousness in Saudi Arabia, seeing itself in the direct risk zone of a new round of US–Iran confrontation. (almasryalyoum.com)

Saudi press and analytical platforms in the last 24 hours have been constructing a double narrative. On one hand, they emphasize the key role of the American military "umbrella" for the security of Gulf monarchies and for deterring Iran. On the other — the argument is increasingly voiced that it was precisely the American strategy of "maximum pressure" and a series of Washington's moves in recent years that made a new escalation nearly inevitable. Local reviews often recall the experience of the wars in Iraq and Yemen: costly, protracted conflicts whose consequences the region is still unraveling. Against this backdrop Saudi commentators draw a clear line between the need to deter Iran and the danger of "being dragged into" yet another war that was started and planned not in Riyadh, but in Washington and Tel Aviv.

For Japan and South Korea this same crisis is read primarily through the prism of energy security and vulnerability of maritime communications. In Tokyo, expert comments on the news of the US and Israeli strike on Iran evoke parallels with 2019, when attacks on tankers in the Strait of Hormuz immediately hit Japanese oil importers. Liberal commentators see the new operation as confirmation of the thesis about a "return of America to the politics of force" and ask: how ready is Tokyo to assume political and military risks if an alliance with the US effectively means automatic involvement in such crises, even if indirectly. In Seoul the discussion is even more pragmatic: South Korean analysts link the potential instability in the Persian Gulf to volatility in energy prices and a hit to industrial exports, which are already under pressure from American and global trade wars.

From military conflicts the discussion naturally moves to the economic front, where in the eyes of Tokyo and Seoul the US behaves no longer as a "leader of free trade," but as the main architect of new tariff barriers. A particular resonance in Japan was caused by the US Supreme Court decision of February 20, 2026: the court ruled illegal an entire package of reciprocal and additional tariffs imposed by Washington since 2025 on a number of countries, including Japan. Almost immediately after that the White House revoked those measures, but then announced a new step — a universal additional 10 percent tariff on imports worldwide, implemented under another law (Section 122 of the US Trade Act) from February 24 for 150 days, with the possibility of extension by Congress. (alic.go.jp)

Japanese trade publications and government comments show an interesting mix of relief and concern. Relief — because, according to Agriculture Minister Noriyuki Suzuki, tariffs on key Japanese export items such as beef and green tea were not included in the new 10 percent package: previous rates are retained for these goods (26.4% on Japanese beef and a zero rate on green tea), which is especially important for the agricultural lobby. (chibanippo.co.jp) Concern — because the very fact that Washington is willing to slap a "flat" 10 percent charge on the entire world is perceived in Tokyo as a signal: the United States in Donald Trump's second term has decisively moved to a logic of constant tariff mobilization and will treat customs rates as a flexible tactical tool of pressure even on allies.

This is stated explicitly in an analysis published on the website of the Japanese organization ALIC, which deals with agricultural markets: the authors not only outline the legal gist of the Supreme Court decision and the new presidential proclamation, but also note a growing flow of lawsuits against American customs authorities. In their assessment, companies in various countries are trying to secure the right to refunds of duties already paid, fearing that without active legal action the money will not be returned. (alic.go.jp) In the Japanese business press this is presented as a lesson: even a close alliance with the US does not exempt one from the need to prepare legal and political tools to defend against Washington.

At the same time the Japanese external trade organization JETRO publishes results of quick surveys of national businesses on the impact of "Tariffs Trump 2.0." Companies complain of rising costs, uncertainty in investment plans and forced market diversification, noting that "the American risk" has become a strategic planning factor no less important than the Chinese one. JETRO accompanies these data with a series of expert comments characterizing the current administration's policy in Washington as "systematic use of trade barriers for political purposes." (jetro.go.jp) Here Japanese criticism is close to that of Europe and South Korea: the US is seen no longer only as a defender of the rules of the game, but as the main violator of those same rules when it suits domestic policy.

The domestic political angle of the American story particularly interests Saudi media in the context of discussion of the upcoming US elections. The Arab financial-business portal Argaam recounts a fresh report from the American "Media Research Center," according to which Google allegedly interfered in American elections at least 41 times from 2008 through February 2024, with the scale of such influence growing over time. (argaam.com) The figure itself proves little, but through this lens Saudi Arabia reads American democracy as a system in which huge tech platforms have learned to play an independent political role.

In Saudi commentary on this report a motive familiar to the local audience is sounded: Washington, which for decades lectured the world on "transparency" and "fair elections," is increasingly becoming the subject of debates about manipulation, hidden algorithms and corporate censorship. This motive is also important in a practical sense: the kingdom itself is undergoing a digital transformation and expanding the role of global IT players in its economy, and the US example is used as a warning. Some columns take a more ironic tone: if even American elections, according to their own researchers, are susceptible to corporate influence, then Washington's right to pass moral judgment on other political systems looks less convincing.

The South Korean discussion is less focused on specific cases of Big Tech interference in American elections, but the general theme of an "unstable America" runs here as well: experts note that for Seoul the main risk is not so much a possible change of president in Washington as the unpredictability of US policy. Military escalation with Iran, tariff swings, courtroom battles over trade policy — all this is seen as manifestations of deep domestic division in the US, the consequences of which are projected onto allies. In analyses by South Korean think tanks one can see the formula: "We depend on the US for protection against the DPRK and China, but increasingly need strategic autonomy from American economic and political turbulence."

Interestingly, Japanese political bloggers and part of the media are already openly talking about an "era of post-American dependency." In materials discussing the latest wave of tariff wars and Trump's threats to raise the universal tariff from 10 to 15%, the idea is voiced that even if the current wave of tariffs is formally temporary and tied to the 150-day period, Tokyo is actually facing a new normal — America will regularly use trade duties as a club, and allies will have to either endure it or accelerate diversification toward Europe and Asia. (go2senkyo.com) This rhetoric is still far from official policy, but it shows a tectonic shift in perception of the US: from the "inevitable and sole center" to an "important but problematic partner."

Against this background it is especially telling how differently the three countries react to the same set of facts. For Saudi Arabia America remains an indispensable military partner, but the image of Washington is increasingly associated with the risk of being dragged into another regional war and with hypocrisy on questions of democracy. For Japan the US is a fundamental security ally, but also a source of chronic trade uncertainty, because of which Japanese business must build defensive strategies as if dealing not only with a partner but with a potential economic aggressor. For South Korea the US is still the main shield against the DPRK, but behind that shield the internal chaos, court battles, tariff zigzags and elections under suspicion are becoming more visible, strengthening the conversation in Seoul about the need for "insurance" against American decisions.

These different perspectives share one thing: in them America no longer appears as a homogeneous and predictable actor. Military power, trade tariffs, the power of tech corporations and internal political conflicts merge into a complex, sometimes contradictory image. It is this image that the US’s allies and partners in Asia and the Middle East must deal with — adapting their strategies to the fact that Washington more and more often is both a pillar and a source of risk.

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How the World Sees America Today: Saudi Arabia, India and Turkey

At the end of February 2026, the image of the United States in the world again came under close scrutiny, but the angle of that scrutiny in Riyadh, Delhi and Ankara differs noticeably from what a reader of American media might expect. For some, America remains the chief architect of global security and the economy; for others, it is a source of pressure and double standards; for still others, it is a necessary but increasingly less dominant partner in a multipolar world. Three themes, in various forms, surface in almost all local discussions: security and the U.S. role in the Middle East, the economic and digital rules of the game, and the struggle over narratives and the influence of American “analytic factories” and media.

On regional security, Saudi Arabia and Turkey are increasingly discussing the United States not as the sole guarantor of order but as one influential yet in many respects problematic actor. Arab outlets discuss a series of publications by a Washington think tank that in recent days has been conducting a targeted campaign directed at the Gulf countries and Yemen, where Saudi Arabia and Oman figure among the key addressees. The Yemeni portal "الموقع بوست" emphasizes that the Foundation for Defense of Democracies in Washington, whose experts regularly testify before the U.S. Congress, effectively crafts a hard line toward the policies of Riyadh and Muscat, and its publications are perceived in the region as a continuation of pressure that aligns with the interests of competing powers in the Gulf. The piece notes that this campaign is presented in the U.S. as analysis on sanctions and foreign policy, but locally it is seen as direct interference in internal balances of power and an attempt to redefine Saudi Arabia’s role in the Yemeni dossier through expert discourse that can easily become an argument for new steps by Washington. (yemennownews.com)

Against the backdrop of such stories, the Saudi debate about the United States is increasingly intertwined with the theme of strategic maneuvering between Washington and Beijing. While the official press covered in detail the deepening of a “comprehensive strategic partnership” between Riyadh and Beijing and the alignment of the “Vision 2030” plan with China’s “Belt and Road” initiative, the emphasis has shifted to the view that China, not the U.S., is becoming, in the eyes of part of the Saudi establishment, the key long-term economic partner. The Saudi news agency stresses that cooperation with China is being built “outside any geopolitical tug-of-war” and is based on mutual respect and predictability, whereas the American line in the region in Arab columns is more often described as a mix of declarations about democracy combined with sanctions and targeted pressure. (spa.gov.sa) Against this backdrop many local commentators no longer speak of a break with the U.S. but of a gradual “normalization” of America — it is losing its exceptional status and becoming one of several centers of power with which Saudi Arabia is willing to engage on its own terms.

In Turkey, the U.S. issue fits into a broader context of Turkish perceptions of global instability and regional risks. The recent “Turkish Digital Media Report” for 2025, prepared by the B2Press platform, says that the national agenda online was driven by natural disasters, domestic politics and terrorism, while global wars and external actors, including the U.S., although constantly present, no longer dominate discussions. (dha.com.tr) This is an important shift: the American factor still appears in the context of NATO, Syria, the Kurdish issue and sanctions, but Turkish media increasingly place Washington among external sources of risk alongside other powers, rather than as the sole decision-making center. Commentators emphasize that Ankara, faced with a series of internal crises and terrorist attacks, is less ready to accept American rhetoric about fighting terrorism as neutral, because it sees double standards regarding Kurdish armed formations in Syria and Iraq.

In India in recent days another aspect of American influence has been widely debated — the economic and digital rules of the game that Washington is shaping through bilateral agreements. Against this backdrop, criticism of a new U.S.-Asian trade agreement by the Committee for the Responsibility of Digital Platforms to Support Quality Journalism (KTP2JB) became especially resonant. In a newly published piece by VOI agency, the committee sharply opposed a provision of the agreement that effectively exempts American platforms from the obligation to financially support national media. KTP2JB representatives warn that such an approach “undermines the press ecosystem” and in the long run harms not only the media industry but also citizens “who have a right to quality information.” (voi.id) Sasmito, a committee member, announced preparation of a letter to the president and parliament demanding a review of the article concerning digital platforms and its removal from the agreement. Essentially, Indian media and media organizations fear a repeat of the Western scenario in which global American platforms gain economic advantages while local news outlets lose revenue and influence.

This dispute over digital giants reveals another common motif in discussions about the U.S. in India, Turkey and the Arab world: America is no longer only a military and political superpower but also a legislator of global digital norms that directly affect the sovereignty of media and the information security of other states. Indian commentary on the U.S.-Asian deals increasingly asserts that Washington seeks to cement a privileged position for its IT corporations, shifting risks onto national regulators and newsrooms. Turkish experts, analyzing their own experience of regulating social networks and disputes with major platforms over data storage, note in turn that under the rhetoric of free speech the U.S. promotes a model in which national governments are left to react to decisions made in Silicon Valley rather than to shape their own digital architectures. For Saudi and broader Arab analysts, this ties into an older line of criticism of American surveillance technologies and cybersecurity, where Washington simultaneously acts as both guarantor and threat.

The third connecting thread is the struggle over interpreting reality, where American think tanks and media act not merely as information sources but as full-fledged geopolitical actors. Arab analysis examines in detail the phenomenon of Washington-based foundations like the Foundation for Defense of Democracies mentioned above, which, under the cover of expert language, effectively project a hard line toward certain Arab capitals and in many ways substitute themselves for classic diplomacy, creating intellectual justification for sanctions and political pressure. (yemennownews.com) Regional discussions increasingly recall the asymmetry of the media space: leading American newspapers and TV channels, despite being openly liberal, are criticized for systematically skewing emphasis in key foreign policy conflicts — from the Middle East to Ukraine. Arab media readily cite research from Western universities showing that outlets like The New York Times have historically covered the Palestinian-Israeli conflict with a clear tilt toward the Israeli side, which for regional readers becomes another argument for the thesis of structural bias in the American press. (institute.aljazeera.net)

That is why the debate over digital platforms in India turns out to be much broader than the argument over a specific clause of the agreement. For Indian journalists’ associations, it is not only a matter of money but of who will set the framework for every subsequent political and socio-cultural debate — local newsrooms accountable to their audiences, or global American newsfeed algorithms whose logic is subordinated to a different set of priorities. Critics of the agreement warn that if American platforms are legally freed from obligations to support local journalism, in the long term this will lead to even greater dominance of English-language, primarily American, content in India’s information space, making it harder to form a genuinely independent Indian voice in global debates.

In Turkey the theme of American media hegemony overlays an already lively and polarized media sphere. The review of nearly 61 million news items for 2025 shows how much domestic stories — from forest fires to political crises — push foreign policy issues, including the U.S., out of top news rankings. (dha.com.tr) But this does not mean interest in America has disappeared — rather, the attitude has become more instrumental: Washington is perceived as an external variable, important but not determinative of the domestic course. Against this backdrop debates about the American role in NATO and regional conflicts gain particular sharpness: when the U.S. appeals to principles of democracy and human rights, some Turkish commentators reply by pointing to American support for allies’ military operations, criticizing selective sanctions, and asking why human rights violations outside Washington’s interests rarely provoke equally harsh reactions.

In Saudi Arabia and more broadly in the Arab world the theme of double standards is intensified by memories of the Iraq campaign, the Syrian war and pressure on human rights grounds. In discussions about the current campaign by Washington think tanks regarding Riyadh, the question arises: how legitimate is it that institutions closely connected to Congressional committees call into question the course of a state that remains at the same time a key U.S. partner in energy and security? Authors stress that such campaigns in the American media-expert field are often synchronized with domestic political cycles in Washington and used to pressure the administration, which then transfers this discourse into negotiations with Middle Eastern allies.

Against this background a broader trend is particularly noticeable: Saudi Arabia, India and Turkey are increasingly speaking of the United States less in terms of “for” or “against” and more in terms of balancing interests and sovereign choice. In Riyadh it is emphasized that developing partnerships with China and other Asian countries is not directed against the U.S. but simply records a shift toward multipolarity. (spa.gov.sa) In Delhi the dispute over trade agreements with Washington turns into a discussion about how to reconcile a strategically one-directional partnership with the U.S. with the need to protect India’s media ecosystem and digital sovereignty. In Ankara, relying on a dense domestic agenda, people increasingly say openly that NATO alliance membership does not mean automatic agreement with every American foreign-policy course.

As a result, a new picture emerges: the U.S. remains the largest military, economic and technological center, but its ability to prescribe a single interpretation of what is happening in the world is rapidly shrinking. Saudi analysts, Indian press defenders and Turkish media researchers, each discussing their own topics — the Yemeni dossier, the rights of local journalists, internal security — together form an alternative narrative about America. This is no longer a story about the “leader of the free world,” but a conversation about a complex, contradictory and increasingly contested partner with whom tough negotiations must be conducted under rules that are no longer written solely in Washington.

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How the world sees America today: India, Australia and South Korea on a second Trump

At the start of 2026, conversations about America in New Delhi, Canberra and Seoul are surprisingly similar and at the same time very different. Everywhere people are discussing a new turn in Washington’s tariff policy, the return of Donald Trump’s harsh, personalized style of foreign policy, his struggle with China and the fate of US alliances in Asia. But in each country this is refracted through its own fears and interests: in India — through the painful experience of a trade war and the dispute over Russian oil; in Australia — through anxiety about a possible war over Taiwan and the militarization of the Pacific; in South Korea — through the question of how reliable the American “nuclear umbrella” remains and how to behave between an unpredictable Washington, Beijing and Pyongyang.

The central themes now shaping the discussion about the US can be reduced to three. First, the radically changed trade and economic policy of Washington, from global “universal” tariffs to a sudden easing toward India. Second, the China factor: Taiwan, the South China Sea, US military presence in the Pacific and the creation of new alliances into which Washington is actively drawing India and Australia, and in a softer form — South Korea. Third, America’s image and the degree of trust in the US as a global leader and a democracy: here Trump has become as important a theme as US institutions themselves.

Trade storm and a “quiet” revision: how India reads between Washington’s lines

In none of the three countries is current US trade policy discussed as emotionally as it is in India. After almost a year and a half of a tariff war, when the overall level of duties on Indian exports to the US rose to 50% and was among the highest in the world, February’s “reset” in relations — a cut to 18% as part of an interim agreement — is perceived simultaneously as relief and as a warning. Analyst Chietigj Bajpaee, in a comment for Chatham House, emphasizes that the agreement, which formally opens the way to a bilateral trade deal, only partially eases tensions and leaves many ambiguities, especially around India’s promises to reduce purchases of Russian oil and the scale of its future purchases of American energy and technologies. As he notes, a year of hostile tariff rhetoric and Trump’s disparaging comments about India’s “dead economy” have left a deep mark, and New Delhi is settling on a strategy of “pragmatic hedging” — expanding a network of other trade deals from the EU to New Zealand so as not to be hostage to a single Washington. This analysis spells it out clearly: even a “victory” in the form of lower tariffs does not restore trust — India will remain committed to strategic autonomy and will view the US as an important but insecure partner. (chathamhouse.org)

Inside India itself the agreement became a reason for more political scrutiny. In a blog on ABP Live political commentator Arian Kumar carefully analyzes the “politics of words” in the revised White House fact sheet. Initially Washington had publicly written that India had “committed” to purchase more than $500 billion of American goods, to cut the digital tax and to lower duties on some agricultural products — including pulses sensitive to Indian farmers. After objections from New Delhi those formulations were quietly softened: “committed” was changed to “intends”, mentions of pulses and of an immediate repeal of the digital tax disappeared. Kumar shows how a technical document turned into a “political spark”: Washington wanted to present the deal as a unilateral Trump victory in the name of the American farmer and corporations, while Modi needed to convince his audience that rural interests and fiscal sovereignty had not been surrendered. In the Indian press this episode is read as a symptom of a broader problem: under Trump the US tends to first oversell any agreement to domestic audiences and only then adjust details if partners protest. (news.abplive.com)

Here an interesting counterpoint arises: economic analysts cited, for example, in the monitoring of the Indian economy on the website of the Embassy of India in Thailand try to reassure business by saying that the new “global” tariff of 10–15% after a US Supreme Court decision limiting Trump’s emergency powers to impose tariffs even makes India’s position relative to other countries not so bad. Market veteran Samir Arora emphasizes that because the tariff was raised for everyone, India is “not singled out” as a target, and its export-promotion programs partially cushion the blow. Indian think tanks see the US court decision as a restoration of Congressional control over trade policy — and a geopolitical “window of opportunity” to renegotiate a more predictable deal with the US. (thaiindia.net)

The Australian view: between “America’s spear” and “China’s target”

For Australia the United States is first and foremost about the military and political architecture in the Indo-Pacific region, not tariffs. The leitmotif here is duality: the US is still seen as the main guarantor of security, but trust in American leadership and in the image of Trump is clearly eroded.

Last year ABC looked in detail at how the US is turning Pacific islands — Guam, Palau, the Federated States of Micronesia — into a “second island line” of military deterrence against China: building radar stations, modernizing ports, reviving World War II–era airstrips, and the US defense secretary called the islands “the tip of America’s spear.” For people in the region, quoted by Australian journalists, that metaphor sounds ominous: former Guam delegate to the US Congress Robert Underwood says, “if you live in Guam, you feel like expendable material in the event of a conflict,” and locals are not thinking about geostrategy but about their homes becoming “targets” for Chinese missiles. (abc.net.au)

Australian writers use these stories as a mirror of their own fears. The growing US military presence in the region, cooperation under AUKUS and the expansion of American infrastructure in Australia are seen simultaneously as a “insurance policy” against China and as a factor that makes Australian bases primary targets in the event of war. It is important that Australian coverage actively cites public-opinion experts: a Pew poll referenced by ABC showed that most Australians now prefer to deepen economic ties with China rather than with the US, even though views of China and Xi Jinping remain largely negative. The result is a paradox: in security Australia is leaning ever more heavily on Washington, but economically society is moving closer to Beijing. (abc.net.au)

This ambivalence is especially pronounced in reactions to US decisions on Taiwan and the South China Sea. When ABC reports Trump’s statement that he will “soon decide” whether to send additional arms to Taiwan, despite direct warnings from Xi Jinping, it is presented as another episode in a chain of steps “capable of angering China” and accelerating an arms race. The same piece also discusses US plans to deploy new missile systems in the Philippines and the joint Washington-Manila statement condemning China’s “illegal, aggressive and deceptive” activity in the South China Sea. For an Australian audience all this is woven into a single picture: the US is gradually returning to a strategy of hard deterrence, but under a leader whose impulsive decisions, in the eyes of many voters and experts, add extra risk. (abc.net.au)

Especially notable in the Australian debate are comparisons with China as an “alternative pole.” In coverage of the global Pew study ABC highlights that the share of Australians who consider it more important to develop economic ties with China rose from 39% to 53%, while preference for the US fell from 52% to 42%. At the same time, Trump’s image drags down perceptions of the US itself: trust that an American president “will do the right things in world affairs” fell more sharply than general attitudes toward the American people. For Australia this is not abstract: how predictable American policy seems will affect the willingness of elites and the public to take further steps to deepen military cooperation, whether that means hosting American bombers or joint submarine programs. (abc.net.au)

South Korea: America as a source of global turbulence

In South Korea current American policy is discussed less as a bilateral problem and more as part of global instability. Korean analysis, often published in the form of columns and digests, portrays Trump’s US as one of three “chaotizing” centers alongside revisionist Russia and an ambitious China. In a 2026 New Year review economic and political commentator Kevin Kim, writing for a Korean audience, calls the year marking the 250th anniversary of the founding of the US a time when the country “has never been so torn,” and its domestic polarization directly affects the global economy and security. He notes that even if Democrats win the midterms, Trump will continue to “pull tariff and executive-order levers arbitrarily,” undermining the predictability of international regimes on trade, climate and security. (seoultokyo.beehiiv.com)

Korean commentators draw an interesting line from American policy to local financial markets: already during the 2024 campaign the Korean business press wrote about how expectations about the US election outcome rock global markets, and the notion of a “Trump trade” became a symbol of bets on sharp moves in the dollar, Fed rates and defense stocks. This continues to resonate now, as the US Supreme Court’s decision to limit Trump’s use of emergency powers to impose tariffs is seen in Seoul as a rare example of how American institutions can “tame” the president’s personalistic style. (thaiindia.net)

At the same time, the theme of the reliability of American security guarantees almost inevitably arises in the Korean discourse. There are few direct, sharp anti-American outbursts right now, but a nervous question is heard beneath the surface: if the US so easily changes tariff policy toward allies and partners, how solid are its commitments to defend South Korea from the North? This intensifies a long-standing debate over a domestic nuclear option, the need for greater autonomy in intelligence and missile defense, and the diversification of foreign-policy ties, including a cautious cultivation of channels with China.

The common motif of Korean analytical texts is that the world is entering an era of “ad-hoc agreements,” when instead of the stable multilateral regimes that the US once played a leading role in building, we increasingly see temporary, situational alliances and deals: from arms supplies to Taiwan to narrowly specialized technology blocs. In this light America is no longer so much the “anchor” of the world order as another source of turbulence that one must learn to live with.

Common lines and unexpected differences

If you bring together these three sets of reactions, several common themes stand out.

First — a rise in strategic caution toward the US. India, even after tariff reductions, is building an “insurance net” of agreements with the EU, the UK and other partners and makes clear that its participation in American initiatives — from trade to new technological alliances — is limited by strategic autonomy. Australia is strengthening its military alliance with the US, but public opinion is clearly shifting toward economic rapprochement with China, which in the long term may limit how far any Australian government can go in anti-China steps. South Korea is moving the discussion to institutional guarantees: it is important that not only Trump’s words but also US courts, Congress and bureaucracy keep the country within predictable bounds.

Second — an erosion of America’s moral authority. Indian and Korean texts refer to American internal conflicts, polarization, disputes over the role of the Supreme Court, which undermine the traditional image of the US as an exemplar of democracy and the rule of law. Australian sociological data show a worrying trend for Washington: trust in Chinese leadership remains low, but faith in American leadership capacity has fallen significantly; the US is no longer perceived as the “natural” first choice for economic partnership. (abc.net.au)

Third — the “geo-economic” framing of the entire discourse about the US. Even when talking about military moves — missiles in the Philippines, arms shipments to Taiwan, bases in the Pacific — Indian, Australian and Korean writers almost always come back to consequences for trade, investment, currency stability and supply chains. For India the key question is whether its exporters of electronics and pharmaceuticals will benefit from new access to the US market or whether American tariffs and legal uncertainty will again leave them vulnerable. For Australia — how to balance income from trade with China and obligations to the American alliance. For South Korea — how to fit its high-tech industries into the US-China struggle over control of value chains without losing the Chinese market.

Against this backdrop the image of the US becomes less monolithic. Local commentators increasingly separate “America as a country” from “America as the Trump administration.” The Indian press can welcome lower tariffs and at the same time recall with irritation how easily those same tariffs were raised a year ago. Australian journalists can applaud US firmness in defending freedom of navigation while also showing how people in Guam or Palau feel like pawns on the great-power chessboard. Korean analysts can still see the American market and financial system as central to the global economy, but view the White House as a source of unpredictable shocks to be hedged against.

That is the main difference between today’s picture and the one that existed ten to fifteen years ago. Then the US was seen by many as an “imperfect but indispensable” center of order. Today India, Australia and South Korea describe America much more instrumentally: as an important, sometimes necessary, but by no means the only resource in the struggle for their own security, growth and autonomy. And the more chaotic and personalized Washington’s policy appears, the more persistently these countries seek ways to build a world in which their tomorrow does not depend on a single swing in American mood.

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How the World Sees Washington Today: America Between Tariffs, Iran and a Saudi Nuclear Deal

Since the second half of February 2026, the image of the United States in the foreign press has once again concentrated around three interrelated storylines: a forceful reformatting of global trade through new American tariffs, escalating confrontation alongside parallel negotiations with Iran, and Washington’s nuclear deal with Saudi Arabia. Against this backdrop, President Donald Trump’s annual State of the Union—“record” in length and pomp—became a kind of screen onto which each society projects its own fears and expectations. Saudi, Australian and Israeli discussions about America today do not resemble one another, but surprisingly converge in one respect: the United States is seen simultaneously as an indispensable security guarantor and as a source of growing instability.

The most notable shared nerve—in Riyadh, Jerusalem and Australia—is the Iran dossier. Israeli media dissect Trump’s address to Congress almost frame by frame, highlighting above all the inclusion in the terms of a future deal with Tehran not only of its nuclear program but also of missile development. In Israel Hayom, Professor of International Relations Avraham Ben‑Zvi notes that the U.S. president for the first time linked Iran’s ballistic missiles to the parameters of a possible agreement and made clear that Tehran’s refusal could lead to a military scenario, while reaffirming the intention to prevent the regime from acquiring nuclear weapons. In his assessment, this is the “big news for Israel” in a speech that deliberately leaves the choice of the American track ambiguous, but places the “last word” with Iran, while Washington is already thinking about Congressional elections and domestic division in the U.S. Such an analysis shows that the Israeli view of the U.S. still filters through an Iran‑centered threat and its expectations of American deterrence.

Other Israeli commentators see in the same speech not only a foreign policy message but also Trump’s targeted appeal to the American voter with an added Israeli agenda. A Walla commentator points out that, by speaking of “missiles capable of reaching the U.S.,” Trump absorbs the rhetoric of Benjamin Netanyahu: Iran is not only Israel’s problem but a direct danger to Americans. This, in his view, is simultaneously a gift to the Israeli prime minister and a strong signal to MAGA supporters: one should fear not only the crisis at the southern border or inflation, but also the distant Middle East. Thus Israel interprets American policy through the logic of the triangle “Trump—Netanyahu—Iranian threat,” where domestic electoral calculation and Middle Eastern strategy fuse.

Meanwhile, on the other shore of the Persian Gulf the conversation is already about not only Iran’s nuclear program but also the potential nuclear option for Saudi Arabia. Against this background, reports of a forthcoming bilateral nuclear deal between Washington and Riyadh that would allow the kingdom to build its own uranium enrichment capabilities are causing concern not only among U.S. nonproliferation advocates but also in neighboring countries. The Associated Press, analyzing leaks from Congress, emphasizes that the U.S. may abandon the “gold standard” of no enrichment and reprocessing—previously applied, for example, to the UAE—and thereby open the door for Saudi Arabia to technologies that create “military potential,” even if formally it is only about peaceful nuclear energy. For a regional audience this debate is far from academic: Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman has already said the kingdom will seek nuclear weapons if Iran does. In this context, Riyadh’s earlier defense pact with nuclear Pakistan, under which Islamabad has hinted at readiness to “extend the nuclear umbrella,” gives a very different tone to U.S.–Saudi negotiations over a 123 agreement.

The Saudi press is traditionally restrained, but Arab news aggregators and regional columns increasingly put the question bluntly: does Washington undermine its own nonproliferation policy by making an exception for a “key partner,” and does this not trigger a chain reaction of a race for “legal” nuclear potential in the Gulf? Political commentators recall that it was the U.S. that for decades built the regime of strict IAEA standards, including the Additional Protocol enabling snap inspections, and now is willing to overlook its absence in the Saudi case. For publics accustomed to thinking in terms of competition with Iran and Turkey, this is both an opportunity and a risk: Riyadh gains levers but pays by turning the region into an area of even greater strategic uncertainty, where any U.S. move is instantly read in Tehran and Jerusalem as a step toward escalation.

In Israel this storyline is read differently. Political and military commentators see potential Saudi enrichment as part of a broader picture in which the U.S. increases its military presence and creates a “deterrence umbrella” around Iran. Recent reports about the deployment of additional fifth‑generation F‑22 fighters to Israel—initially a dozen, then another six, forming a full squadron—are directly linked by Israeli and Arab sources to preparations for a possible strike on Iranian targets. According to Israel’s Channel 12, cited by the Palestinian agency Sada News, these aircraft are arriving as part of American preparations for an attack on Iran, and within days a full squadron will be deployed in Israel. For local commentators this confirms that Trump’s lines in Congress about “missiles that will soon be able to reach America” are not rhetoric but part of real military logistics.

This reading sharply contrasts with how America is seen in Australia, where the main irritant has become tariffs rather than aircraft or nuclear centrifuges. After the U.S. Supreme Court limited the president’s use of emergency powers from 1977 to impose tariffs, the Trump administration almost immediately announced a 10 percent global tariff under another 1974 law, and then its intention to raise it to 15 percent for a wide range of countries, including traditional allies. In Canberra this was perceived as a direct trampling on the spirit and letter of the 2005 bilateral free trade agreement. Minister for Trade and Tourism Don Farrell, in interviews with Australian media before departing for the annual G’Day USA event in Los Angeles, emphasized that his message to Washington would be unambiguous: Australia “expects the zero‑tariff agreement to be honored” and will oppose any unilateral U.S. steps that violate the free trade regime. He said this in conversations with Sky News and later in comments to The Australian, thereby turning a technical dispute over the legal basis of tariffs into a question of political trust in the American partner.

Interestingly, criticism of the global tariff plan in Australia is shared by some former U.S. officials. Former U.S. Assistant Secretary of State for Indo‑Pacific Affairs Daniel Kritenbrink told the Australian press that raising the baseline rate to 15 percent for allies such as Australia, Singapore and the UK “has no justification” and lacks reciprocity logic. He stresses that such steps undermine confidence in the U.S. as the steward of the liberal trading order, especially against the declared Washington goal of reducing Western dependence on China and strengthening supply chains for critical minerals. There is a paradox here: while the American administration urges Australia to reorient resource and technology exports away from Beijing, that same administration is effectively punishing Canberra for loyalty by erecting additional barriers to the American market.

Australian economic commentators point to another aspect: the domestic U.S. legal battle over the limits of presidential trade powers. After the Supreme Court blocked the previous tariff construct, the White House found a loophole in another law, demonstrating that “America, governed through the courts,” remains a source of institutional unpredictability for allies. This perception is markedly different from Israel’s, where the same Trump maneuvers are perceived primarily as manifestations of resolve and strength. In Australia the U.S. appears more as a giant that increasingly turns its weight against friends rather than foes.

Against this backdrop, in Australia, the Arab world and Israel alike there is close attention to the very style of political leadership in Washington. The Israeli portal Zman, in its daily political digest, mocks how Trump—having broken the record for the longest Congressional address—constructs his doctrine not on Theodore Roosevelt’s “speak softly and carry a big stick,” but on a formula of “speak about yourself and carry a big stick.” The journalist describes how the president again lists wars he allegedly “ended personally, including the still‑smoldering conflict in Gaza,” claims credit for freeing and finding all hostages, asserts that “Hamas worked with Israel,” and “dug until it found all the bodies.” The author concedes: Trump “digs and digs,” and it remains unclear where he is ultimately leading America and the world. But the key idea for the Israeli reader is not merely self‑praise but the constant assertion that “our enemies fear us, the army is stronger than ever, and America has regained respect.”

In the Arab information space, especially in regional news roundups, a different aspect comes to the fore. Moroccan Anwar Press, in its world events review, calls Trump’s address to Congress the main event of the day and notes that it occurs against intersecting processes: U.S.–Iran negotiations, reciprocal military exchanges and demonstrations of force in the Persian Gulf. For the Arab reader it is important that the American president himself describes the situation as a “historic turning point” achieved by his administration. At the same time, such reviews promptly remind readers of parallel crises—from Ukraine to Sudan—showing that the U.S. remains a global actor whose moves regarding Iran and Saudi Arabia are seen as part of the overall mosaic of world conflicts.

Curiously, it is precisely in Israeli and Arab press that the theme of a possible new U.S.–Iran deal sounds with a notable tone of destiny. Walla quotes Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi, who two days before Trump’s speech said on X that there is a “historic chance” to reach an agreement with the U.S. at the upcoming third round of talks in Geneva and stressed that a deal is “within arm’s reach,” but only if “diplomacy is put first.” Against the American president’s warnings about “bad things” awaiting Iran if talks fail, such optimism from Tehran elicits a mixture of skepticism and concern in Israel: analysts debate whether this is a real rapprochement of positions or a tactical maneuver by Iran to ease some sanction pressure while preserving strategic programs. In any case, for public opinion both in Israel and in the Gulf countries, the U.S. sits at the center of a complex game where it simultaneously tightens pressure and keeps the door open for a deal.

Finally, one must note how all three countries read the balance between the American foreign and domestic agendas. Israeli commentators detail the domestic context of the speech: the president’s low approval ratings, slow economic growth, and fierce midterm election battle. Bizportal, a site specializing in financial markets, emphasizes that Trump, addressing Americans against worrying macroeconomic indicators, seeks to sell them a narrative of strength—from “border control” and a “historic turning point” in Venezuela to a hard line against Iran and conflicts over tariffs and the Supreme Court. For the Israeli audience this is not mere background: how convincing this narrative proves to American voters will determine continued military aid to Israel, U.S. willingness to take risky confrontation with Iran, and the U.S. approach to the Palestinian issue.

In Australia, the U.S. domestic battle over tariffs is perceived primarily through the prism of Australia’s own economic interests. Local politicians and experts speak of “Washington’s unpredictability” as a risk factor for Australian exports and for the entire architecture of Indo‑Pacific alliances. Notably, criticism comes not only from the opposition but also from figures close to Washington, like the aforementioned Kritenbrink, which makes it particularly weighty for the Australian audience: this is not simply a complaint from a small partner but part of a broader Western debate about the direction of Trump’s “tariff nationalism.”

The Saudi—and broader Arab—perspective is even more cynical: they see that the U.S. is willing, for immediate geopolitical and economic goals, to bend its own principles—whether WTO trade rules or strict IAEA standards. Hence a dual attitude: Washington remains an indispensable security patron and a source of key technologies, but at the same time turns into a power whose decisions and domestic vicissitudes literally determine whether the region will live in the shadow of a nuclear race and new wars.

The result is a complex but telling image of America through the eyes of Saudi Arabia, Australia and Israel at the end of February 2026. For Israel, the U.S. is still the main guarantor of security, whose hard line against Iran is welcomed, but whose domestic political turbulence raises questions about long‑term predictability. For Australia, Washington is a senior partner whose willingness to sacrifice allies’ interests for domestic political agendas and tariff experiments undermines trust in the very notion of “allied commitments.” For Saudi Arabia, America is an indispensable patron and simultaneously the architect of new risks: whether the Middle East becomes a zone of managed deterrence or finally descends into mutual nuclear blackmail depends on how consistently Washington structures a nuclear deal with Riyadh and its line toward Iran.

What these perspectives share is one thing: the world no longer looks at the U.S. as the stable center of the liberal order. America is becoming a dynamic, contradictory actor whose sharp moves—whether raising tariffs, deploying fighters, or softening nonproliferation standards—are perceived in Riyadh, Canberra and Jerusalem not as “natural leadership,” but as a factor to which one must constantly adapt by developing one’s own safety nets and scenarios in case Washington changes the rules of the game once again.

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Trump, Tariffs and "Fatigue with America": How Ukraine, France and Brazil View Today's US

At the end of February 2026, attention outside the United States is focused not on a single issue but on a peculiar "bouquet" of Washington's decisions and gestures. A new round of Donald Trump's tariff war, his attempt to quickly push negotiations on Ukraine toward a deal, the US's retreat from the climate agenda, and the explosive rise of American tech giants in AI — all of this together forms an image of an America that acts abruptly, unilaterally and often presents its partners with faits accomplis. Ukraine sees the US as both the architect of a future peace agreement and a strict "regulator" of its concessions. France notes a "Trumpization" of the West — from tariffs to climate and AI. Brazil looks at the situation more pragmatically: as a window of opportunity in trade, but also as a source of dangerous instability.

One of the central themes, surfacing in Kyiv, European capitals and the South American press alike, is Trump's strategy on Ukraine and his desire to "close" the war by the symbolic date of July 4, 2026, the 250th anniversary of US independence. In Ukrainian discourse the American line is perceived as a mix of pressure and paternalism: according to Bloomberg, allies say the US seeks to clinch a deal by that date, but European officials stress a lack of signs that Moscow is ready to accept an agreement without its key demands being met, while Volodymyr Zelensky insists that US security guarantees must first be agreed and ratified by the US Congress. Russia's Gazeta.Ru, relaying these assessments, highlights the skepticism of former Verkhovna Rada deputy Volodymyr Oleynyk, who considers it unlikely the conflict will end this year precisely because of Kyiv's list of demands to Washington and Zelensky's own political vulnerability. In the Ukrainian expert field the American plan is analyzed, for example, by ZN.ua: it recounts three scenarios discussed in the Wall Street Journal, where the American vision of peace is built around the idea that Ukraine would cede some territories in exchange for a Western military "shield," unacceptable to Moscow. In this picture the US is the chief architect of frameworks and guarantees, but at the same time a source of pressure on Kyiv over territorial concessions, which is extremely unpopular in Ukrainian society.

French commentators view Trump's moves more through the prism of global leadership and trust in the US. American initiatives on Ukraine and nuclear control overlap with the expiry of the New START treaty and new US consultations with Russia and China on a future architectural agreement on strategic arms, which independent media DOXA, for example, covers in detail by following the Geneva rounds and stressing that Washington is trying to restart control over nuclear arsenals precisely at a moment when its unilateral actions on trade and climate irritate allies. For Paris this is a dual position: on the one hand, without the US there will be neither nuclear control nor effective deterrence of Russia; on the other, Trump demonstratively ignores collective formats and devalues agreements — be it the Paris climate accord, from which his administration has again withdrawn the country, as La Tribune reminds in a piece about the US exit on January 27, 2026, or trade arrangements with the EU.

Against this backdrop, in Brazil the US line on Ukraine sounds much weaker than in Europe, but still filters through the economic context. Latin American press more often mentions Ukraine in connection with grain, fertilizers and energy, where Washington's decisions — sanctions, price caps, licensing regimes — affect global prices. However, decisive for the Brazilian agenda now is not this, but Trump's sharp maneuver in trade policy, which unexpectedly made Brazil one of the countries "winning" from the new order.

The new global US tariffs introduced by Donald Trump after the Supreme Court decision have arguably become the world's most discussed recent topic related to America. In Brazil several outlets analyze how the US is abandoning finely calibrated bilateral trade schemes in favor of a blunt, flat surcharge — and what this gives countries of the Global South. Economic columns in Forbes Brasil refer to calculations by the independent platform Global Trade Alert, showing that Brazil is the main beneficiary of the reforms: the average tariff rate for Brazilian exports to the US falls by 13.6 percentage points, while for China it drops by 7.1, and for European allies, by contrast, it rises. In the Forbes Brasil piece "Pré-mercado: Brasil ganha com tarifas, mas momento é de turbulência" the author emphasizes that the country gains a short-term advantage in access to the US market, but in return faces greater overall instability and high risks for the dollar and US government debt, as evidenced by reactions in currency and debt markets.

The more politicized outlet Brasil de Fato focuses on how Trump bypassed the Supreme Court ruling. After the Court declared a significant portion of his previous "tariff" enacted under the International Emergency Economic Powers Act (IEEPA) illegal, Trump that same weekend first announced a 10-percent and then a 15-percent global surcharge using a different provision — Section 122 of the Trade Act of 1974. In the note "Trump eleva tarifa global para 15% e bate no limite permitido por lei dos EUA" it is emphasized that he is "going to the ceiling" allowed by law, and his post on Truth Social, where Trump again accuses many countries of "years of stealing from the US," illustrates for Brazilian readers the style of American policy: aggressive, personalized, aimed at the domestic electorate. Columnists in center-left outlets see a paradox: a president who positions himself as a defender of the American working class makes a decision that, according to global economists, is in the short term more advantageous to China and Brazil than to European allies and even parts of American industry, as noted in English-language analysis by the Financial Times and reinterpreted in the Brazilian press.

In France the same tariff story is read quite differently. For Paris it is another link in the chain of "Trumpization" of transatlantic relations. French and European commentators stress that the new 15-percent global rate destroys the point of the laborious US‑EU trade agreement of 2025: effectively, the EU loses most of the zero or reduced tariffs that had been the object of long negotiations. In the influential Spanish newspaper El País, whose line French analysts closely follow, Spain's economy minister Carlos Cuerpo says that although the US Supreme Court reduced average tariffs for many European goods (from 14.4% to 12.6%), this relief is temporary and already called into question by the new 10- and 15-percent surcharges that threaten to return escalation. French centrist and left‑liberal media see in this an echo of the Trump-1 era: the US as an "unreliable partner," changing rules unilaterally and calling into question the supremacy of international agreements.

Against this background, France's attitude toward the US is not reduced to Trump as an individual but is fragmented: on the one hand — the strategic necessity of cooperation on Ukraine, nuclear control, China and the Middle East; on the other — a growing need to "insure" against American zigzags by strengthening European autonomy, including in defense and industrial policy. Often American domestic dynamics are interpreted in France as a symptom of a crisis of the West itself. In a recent Time France piece summarizing the year after Trump's return to power and his recent message about a "historical redress," the gap is emphasized between his triumphant tone and persistent domestic discontent recorded by sociologists. For the French reader this contrasts with the image of America in the Obama years — then Washington's internal and external messaging seemed more coordinated.

A separate but increasingly noticeable thread in the French discussion about America is the role of the US as an "AI empire." In an opinion column in DCmag under the telling headline "Les Big Tech et l’IA, plus fortes que les Etats en 2026," commentator Yves Granmontant writes that the four largest American tech corporations — Microsoft, Amazon, Alphabet (Google) and Meta — will spend in 2026 on the AI race about 0.6% of US GDP, that is, more than the legendary Apollo program. The author concludes that these private giants are already acting not as companies but as quasi-states, possessing their own foreign-policy and geo-economic interests, and that European states are increasingly forced to react to what happens in Seattle and Silicon Valley the way they once reacted to White House decisions. For France this raises the question of digital sovereignty and the fate of European regulatory initiatives like the AI Act in the face of the dominance of American platforms.

In Brazil the AI agenda linked to the US is noticeably less emotional than in Europe: local analysts more often view American AI as a potential resource to boost productivity and modernize the economy. But here too the motif of asymmetry sometimes appears: in debates about platform regulation and data protection the US figures as the center of decision-making that changes the rules of the game for the Global South without asking for its consent.

Returning to Ukraine, this is perhaps where the most complex emotional knot in attitudes toward the US appears. For Ukrainian society America remains the main ally, without which there would be neither sustained military support nor sanctions pressure on Russia nor prospects for any acceptable peace agreement. At the same time fear is growing that Washington, pursuing its own timelines and domestic political interests, may try to "push" a compromise that Ukrainian society will not accept. The Kyiv International Institute of Sociology recorded in December 2025 that 75% of Ukrainians oppose ceding the remaining part of Donbas even as part of a peace settlement; at the same time, according to Gallup polling in July 2025, 69% of respondents in the country favored negotiations and only 24% favored continuing the war until victory. This internal dilemma — the desire for peace without capitulation — American commentators describe in articles translated into Russian, for example in InoSMI in the text "The Dilemma of Ukraine," but inside Ukraine it is also colored by experiences of corruption scandals and elite disappointment, against which any signals from Washington about the "need for realism" are received nervously.

The French and broader European lens on Ukraine and the US is tinged with an idea of "fatigue" — among both societies and elites. On the one hand, official statements from Paris and Berlin continue to emphasize that the US is indispensable to deterring Russia. On the other — voices questioning what will happen if the mood or priorities in Washington change in a year or two are getting louder. Against this backdrop the idea of European "strategic autonomy," promoted by Emmanuel Macron, stops being abstract philosophy and becomes a practical response to American unpredictability.

Brazil, unlike Europe, looks at the US‑Ukraine agenda more distantly. For the Lula administration, the key issues in dealings with the US remain climate, trade and reforming global institutions. Here the US withdrawal from the Paris Agreement is perceived with greater irritation than even the tariff war: for a country claiming a role as a climate leader thanks to the Amazon, this looks like a step backward at a moment when the Global South insists on a fair green transition. But, as the Brazilian magazine Veja points out in "Nova tarifa global de Trump beneficia o Brasil, mas não dá para contar com ela," Brazil pragmatically uses any windows of opportunity — even if they open as a result of internal American legal battles between Trump and the Supreme Court.

Across this diversity of national perspectives several common themes emerge. The first is distrust in the predictability of American policy. For Ukraine it is the fear of being "sold out" for the sake of geopolitical balance; for France — the worry that any new agreement (on trade, climate or security) can be revised by a single Washington tweet; for Brazil — the understanding that tariff windows advantageous today can snap shut in 150 days, as the law requires, or even sooner if US political circumstances change.

The second common theme is the perception of the US as a country where private and state power are intertwined to indistinguishability. In France this is a discussion about Big Tech and AI, in Ukraine — about the role of the American military‑industrial complex and its influence on the protraction of war, in Brazil — about how decisions by the Fed, rating agencies and tech corporations from California affect currencies and Global South markets no less than official White House statements.

And finally, a third theme — the duality of attitudes toward America: a combination of criticism and dependence. Ukrainian experts, French columnists and Brazilian economists can sharply criticize Trump's unilateral moves, but all of them acknowledge that without the US — its markets, its military and technological power, its political weight — neither the war, nor the climate crisis, nor global trade can be reorganized. That is the paradox of the current moment: the more the world is outraged by "American unpredictability," the clearer it becomes how much it still depends on decisions made in Washington and in Silicon Valley.

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Global Nerve: How South Korea, South Africa and Australia View Today's America

Today the United States is no longer seen as an "anchor of order" but as a primary source of turbulence. In all three countries — South Korea, South Africa and Australia — discussions revolve, in essence, around the same issues: a second Trump term, global tariffs, the risk of a new war with Iran, his approach to Israel and Palestine, attempts to "rebuild" the world order and the role of the dollar. But in each part of the world these debates are filtered through local experience — from dependence on the American market to trials of former presidents and cases in The Hague.

Viewed by topic rather than by country, several common nerves emerge: a tariff shock and "America vs. the world," the conflict around Israel and Gaza, the collapse of trust in American leadership and, simultaneously, a painful dependence on the U.S. in security, technology and raw materials.

The first theme linking Seoul, Pretoria and Canberra is a new wave of American protectionism. The U.S. Supreme Court’s decision to annul a whole array of previous tariffs, and then Trump’s immediate response — a global tariff initially of 10%, then a proposed 15% on imports "from around the world" — became one of the central storylines in Korean financial and Australian economic columns. Korean analysts describe the day the old tariffs are struck down and a new 15-percent barrier is introduced as a "reset of the regime of uncertainty," stressing that companies are simultaneously waiting for refunds of duties already paid and fearing a new wave of costs and a price shock for consumers. One investor review states bluntly: "the tariff map has turned into an instrument of domestic political games in Washington, not a predictable trade policy," concluding that any long-term plans involving the American market must now be treated as a "political derivative" rather than as economics.

In Australia the tariff issue is even more concrete: commentators calculate exactly how many billions of GDP a "Trump America" could cost Canberra. Economists and journalists note that the U.S. accounts for only about 4–5% of Australian exports, but U.S.-bound exports are largely high-tech processed goods: advanced metals, machinery, chemicals. A study by an Australian industry group emphasizes that for these sectors the hit will be "far from cosmetic" — a significant share of their sales is aimed specifically at the U.S., and a 10–15% tariff simply eats margins and makes Australian goods uncompetitive. An analytical note from Export Finance Australia couches it more mildly, but the meaning is the same: the direct GDP effect may be small, but the indirect effect — via a slowdown in China and global trade — could be much more painful than all the direct tariffs combined.

The political subtext is not hidden. Former senior U.S. diplomat for the Indo‑Pacific Daniel Kritenbrink told the Australian press that a 15% tariff on allied countries, including Australia, is "unjustified and lacks any reciprocity," effectively admitting that the logic of punishment has become more important than the logic of alliances. Former Australian foreign ministers Gareth Evans and Bob Carr went further: Evans said that "Trump has zero respect for international law, morality and allies' interests," while Carr posted on social media that "our alliance with the U.S.'s madness may have run its course," which, for a country that for decades regarded the Australia–U.S. alliance as an unquestioned good, sounds like a small revolution. Public sentiment backs up the politicians: Lowy Institute and Australia Institute polls record historically low trust in the U.S. as a responsible actor and a simultaneous rise in support for a "more independent foreign policy," even while formal support for the alliance remains.

South Africa also views tariff policy through the lens of economic damage, but its perspective is even more politicized. Specialist platforms tracking trade measures lay out the details: reciprocal 30% tariffs on some South African exports are already in effect, separate 50% levies apply to steel and aluminium, and now a global barrier is added. Attention is particularly drawn to the threat to AGOA — the agreement granting South Africa duty-free access to the U.S. market for a range of goods. Experts calculate that if Africa loses AGOA, tens of thousands of jobs in the auto industry and agriculture could be at risk. A Johannesburg consulting firm manager sarcastically notes in one review that "Washington resembles a lender that first offered cheap money and now penalizes the debtor for being too dependent."

But in South Africa trade measures are perceived as inseparable from geopolitics. In opinion columns for local outlets it is stated plainly: tough tariffs and AGOA threats are Washington’s response to Pretoria’s Gaza policy, its cooperation with China and Russia and, especially, to the lawsuit against Israel at the International Court of Justice. Local analysts emphasize double standards: when South Africa demands accountability from Israel and the U.S. over bombings in Gaza, it is accused of a "selective approach," while, as the authors write, Washington "uses human rights in the language of sanctions rather than dialogue."

The second major common theme is the Israeli–Palestinian conflict, Gaza and the U.S. role. For South Africa this is more than foreign policy — it is part of national identity: a country that itself went through apartheid and claims to be the voice of the Global South consciously opposes its vision of international law to America’s. South Africa’s Hague initiative accusing Israel of genocide is seen by many South African commentators as a "moral duty" to history, and it is here that the U.S. role provokes the most irritation: Washington, local columns and pan‑African interviews stress, not only sided with Israel but effectively punished South Africa with tariffs and aid cuts for attempting to use international legal mechanisms.

South African political scientists interviewed by the local press tie this into a single knot: pressure via AGOA, delay of climate finance, hostile rhetoric around an alleged "white genocide" in South Africa and programs to admit white South Africans as refugees to the U.S. One expert remarked that "Washington is ready to use the language of human rights when it suits its domestic racial and electoral agenda, but turns a blind eye to the devastation in Gaza," calling it "a redistribution of morality toward the interests of the White House."

South Korea’s view on U.S. policy toward Israel and Palestine is far less emotional and much more pragmatic. Here the Middle East is primarily seen through how the U.S. reallocates resources and attention: can Washington keep focus simultaneously on Iran, Ukraine, China and the Korean Peninsula? Korean media analytics warn of the risk of a new U.S.–Iran war: commentators retell Western pieces saying that Trump has supposedly "painted himself into a corner" by ramping up pressure on Tehran without achieving concessions, and now must either start an unpopular war or admit failure. For Seoul this is not an abstract dilemma: a U.S.–Iran conflict threatens an oil price shock and a fresh wave of global instability, which would hit Korea’s export-driven economy.

Australian press likewise treats a possible war with Iran mainly through the lens of economic and regional risk. Investor-oriented analysis emphasizes that global trade shocks are already pushing world growth below 3%, and another major U.S.-initiated military crisis could finally drag the global economy into "long stagnation." Official Canberra speaks cautiously in public, but among experts the question is increasingly asked: "Does being so tightly tied to Washington’s military adventures — from AUKUS to a potential conflict with Iran — actually make us safer?"

The third linking theme is the dramatic erosion of trust in the U.S. as a pillar of the world order while dependence on American economy, technology and security remains strong. This is clearest in Australia. Polling data have become almost canonical: more than two-thirds of Australians do not trust Trump to "do the right thing" on the world stage; around a third call him "the main threat to the world" — higher than Putin or Xi. At the same time, support for the Australia–U.S. alliance remains high. University centers and think tanks explain the paradox simply: "we fear not only Trump’s America but also a world without American guarantees, where China stands alone against the region."

South Africa has long lived by a different logic regarding the U.S.: illusions about Washington’s "responsible leadership" have largely disappeared. Columns in South African newspapers describe current U.S. policy as "driven by short-term interests" and "selective application of values." One IOL interviewee summed it up: "The United States recognizes only those allies who do not ask questions." In this context Pretoria’s stance — from the ICJ case against Israel to cooperation with BRICS — is presented as a deliberate choice in favor of "multipolarity," even if it carries economic costs.

South Korea stands between these poles. On the one hand, its security and economic structures remain deeply tied to the U.S.: from a military base with American troops to the critical dependence of Korean chipmakers on the U.S. market and American export controls. On the other, Korean economic analysts increasingly write that "America as a source of predictability is disappearing." One recent investor review for Korean readers put it this way: "the 250th anniversary of American statehood finds the country more internally torn than ever, and its international role is shifting from architect of rules to a player that tears up contracts whenever it suits him." At the same time Korean authors stress the need for "strategic autonomy," but their practical recommendations so far reduce it to diversification of export markets and accelerated expansion of Korean companies into Europe and Southeast Asia, rather than to revising the military alliance.

The fourth common theme is the dollar and the financial dimension of "America First." South Africa pays particular attention to this: analysts note that dollar weakness in 2025 was one factor behind the rand’s unexpected strengthening and a temporary easing of debt pressures. But the same analysts warn that a decline in trust in the dollar as a neutral global currency due to arbitrary tariffs and sanctions could, in the medium term, hit developing countries even harder than current shocks, if the world fragments into several currency‑financial blocs.

Australian economic columns say the same, in plainer terms: the global tariff war stoked by Washington is already forcing international organizations to revise growth forecasts downward. The OECD attributes part of the deterioration in prospects for Australia and the U.S. to "increased trade barriers and political uncertainty," and local commentators add that "inflation in Australia is not yesterday’s problem because we beat it, but because Trump’s trade shocks threaten a much more serious slowdown."

For Korean observers the dollar is primarily an indicator of global risk appetite and export demand. Specialized South African and South Korean platforms tracking the dollar index warn that the combination of a tariff shock and massive U.S. budget deficits makes the American currency increasingly unpredictable, pushing investors into gold and alternative assets. But, as often emphasized in Korean columns, "the world has nowhere to flee from the dollar yet": China is not ready to assume the guarantor role, Europe is fragmented, and the rest of the world lacks scale.

The fifth line where all three countries converge is their attitude toward the very idea of American leadership and a "world order without the U.S." Here formulations echo recent Western comments almost verbatim: if previously the question was "can anyone replace America," it is now "will the world survive without its anchor." Australian and Korean texts increasingly quote European leaders and the Canadian prime minister, who have said the postwar order under U.S. aegis has effectively ended, replaced by a "fragmented field of deals and spheres of influence." South Korean analysts argue this makes life harder for small and medium powers like Korea or Australia: they are forced to constantly balance rather than simply choose the "side of history."

The South African perspective is different: for many South African writers the collapse of U.S. unipolar leadership opens a historic window for the Global South — from Hague lawsuits to new BRICS formats and African integration. Columns also contain direct polemics with Western fears: "what Washington and Brussels call chaos is, for us, a chance to finally speak with our own voice," writes one commentator, comparing U.S. pressure on South Africa to the history of sanctions against the apartheid regime, when, he argues, Washington long resisted tougher measures.

Putting it all together, the picture looks like this. In South Korea, South Africa and Australia people talk about America a lot and nervously, but in different ways. In Australia the main question is how to preserve the alliance while minimizing damage from the "Trumpization" of American policy; the tone is set by opinion polls and former ministers calling for "cautious distancing" without breaking the alliance. In South Africa the U.S. is increasingly seen not as a guarantor but as another great power playing hard and selectively; rhetoric of resistance and a "moral challenge" to Washington dominates, even at the cost of economic losses. South Korea remains in the most difficult position: it is still highly dependent on American guarantees and technology, but it is losing faith in the U.S. as a predictable guardian of order and must build a strategy on the assumption that America can abruptly change course at any moment — from tariffs to war.

One common denominator for all three countries is clear: the world is getting used to the idea that America is no longer the "center of gravity" but a major source of risk. Yet neither South Korea, South Africa nor Australia is ready — and, in practical terms, able — to simply exit America’s orbit. Therefore current conversations about Washington in Seoul, Pretoria and Canberra are less a debate about an external player than a painful search for an answer to the question: how to live in a world where the strongest power is at once indispensable and increasingly unreliable.

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Tariffs, Iran and Trust in Washington: How the World Is Arguing with a Returning Trump America

At the end of February 2026, foreign press coverage of the United States again revolves around a familiar set of names and topics: Donald Trump, new tariffs, the Supreme Court, the threat of a strike on Iran, transatlantic frictions. But the tone of these discussions is noticeably different from his first term: less shock, more cold calculation and tired skepticism. Germany, Australia and China view Washington from different distances and with different interests, but a common motif emerges in their columns and commentaries: the world has grown used to living with an unstable America and now evaluates the U.S. primarily through the prism of its own interests, rather than eternal declarations of “leadership of the free world.”

One of the main triggers was the U.S. Supreme Court’s verdict on February 20: the court ruled that Trump’s so‑called “reciprocal” tariffs, introduced under the International Emergency Economic Powers Act (IEEPA), were unlawful. Chinese business media analyze in detail that the court pointed to the absence of any mention of tariffs in the IEEPA and cited the “clear statement” principle and the “major questions doctrine”: the president cannot single‑handedly reshape the global trade architecture without express authorization from Congress. An analytical review on the financial portal JRJ emphasizes that the so‑called “fentanyl tariffs,” where a 20% rate had been set for China, as well as the global “reciprocal” tariffs that brought an estimated over $130 billion in revenue to the U.S. budget, were also affected. The key question — the return of already paid duties — the Supreme Court effectively left to the lower courts, which, in Chinese assessments, makes “an automatic full refund unlikely.” Importers, including Chinese ones, are advised to prepare for lengthy legal procedures to recover at least part of the money. It is here that pragmatism shows most clearly in the Chinese discourse: not so much a celebration of “defeating Trump,” but a detailed analysis of how to extract the maximum benefit from the current legal situation and which industries (from chemicals to electronics) might gain from a partial easing of tariff pressure. (stock.jrj.com.cn)

In Germany, the tariff issue and the Supreme Court ruling fit into a broader conversation about fragile economic recovery. Business press analysis treats the February rise in the Ifo index — to 88.6 points — as a “signal of a possible turnaround” after several years of stagnation; but alongside it there is a reminder: “if not for Trump.” As Welt writes, for example, German industry — foremost mechanical engineering — has already felt the costs of American tariffs, even though the electronics industry showed record exports in 2025. The new wave of tariff uncertainty, including Trump’s announced “replacement” 10% global tariffs under a different legal basis, is seen by Germans not as temporary noise but as a structural risk factor. Economists commenting on the Ifo data emphasize that without “deep domestic reform” in Germany any external shock originating in Washington can pull the economy back into stagnation. Unlike the trade war period of 2018–2019, the tone of German commentators is much less moral‑ideological and far more technical now: the question is not whether “Trump is right” regarding China, but how a European exporter can survive between American protectionism and Asian competition. (welt.de)

The Australian perspective on tariffs is quieter but similar in logic. Local analyses of global markets describe the U.S. Supreme Court decision as a blow not so much to China as to the predictability of American economic policy. Australian commentators, writing for retail investors, view the situation primarily through the lens of global capital flows: if the White House can one day lose the authority behind one set of tariffs and immediately try to impose another — under a different trade statute — that signals that markets are regulated less by law than by Washington’s domestic political cycle. In financial firms’ reviews, Trump appears as a figure whose tariff moves, and the threat of “new 10% national‑security tariffs,” are both part of electioneering and a tool of pressure in other directions — from China to alliance partners. (acy.com)

The second major theme, shared across several countries, is the sharp escalation around Iran. Regional and Chinese reviews quote concern: American sources report that the Trump administration is considering a “limited strike” on Iran if a deal on the nuclear program is not reached in the coming weeks, while Iran threatens to retaliate against U.S. bases in the region. China’s Foreign Ministry, responding to an Arab TV channel question at a recent briefing, reacted as expected but notably: spokesperson Mao Ning again stressed that Beijing opposes any actions leading to escalation and calls for respect for “the legitimate concerns of all parties” and a return to dialogue. In the statement published on the website of the Chinese embassy in the U.S., the American line is not named directly, but the context is clear: Beijing positions itself as a supporter of stability and multilateral arrangements against an image of Washington as a power ready to use force to press its negotiating position. (us.china-embassy.gov.cn)

European reaction to the risk of a strike on Iran is shaped largely by the recent Munich Security Conference, where the American delegation tried to reassure allies that the “transatlantic era is not over.” Secretary of State Marco Rubio’s speech in Munich, in which he stressed that the U.S. does not seek a rupture with Europe but wants “a renewed alliance with a strong Europe,” is read by European commentators as an attempt to prove the stability of a partner whose actions — from tariffs to Iran — are interpreted as provoking instability. German analysts note that the “renewed alliance” rhetoric sits uneasily with a unilateral approach to sanctions and military threats, as well as with the practical neglect of European interests in the Iran nuclear deal. For Berlin and Paris, which until recently tried to salvage the JCPOA against Washington, the current American line looks like a continuation of an old story: the U.S. makes decisions whose consequences fall first on the shoulders of Europe’s neighbors in the region, from migration waves to energy turbulence. (zh.wikipedia.org)

A third overlapping theme is the domestic state of the United States itself and the question of trust in its political system. Here the perspectives of all three countries are interesting. Australian market analysts link the split within the Federal Reserve about timing and scale of potential rate cuts to political uncertainty: inflation data might leave room for easing, but Fed meetings are accompanied by conspicuously measured rhetoric amid threats of new budget crises and sudden tariff policy shifts from the White House. Chinese reviews of the U.S. economy point out that even after the recent federal government shutdown was resolved — with Congress able to pass a stopgap budget only in early February — confidence in Washington’s ability to manage the economy without recurring shutdowns and extreme political maneuvers remains low. (acy.com)

In Germany, internal U.S. stories are read through the prism of the transatlantic partnership. The German press reports new U.S. opinion polls in detail, where Trump’s approval rating, according to CNN/SSRS, falls to 36%, and only a third of respondents say he focuses on the right priorities, above all the economy and cost of living. For the German reader this signal is ambivalent. On one hand, declining support for a president whose policies are seen in Berlin as sources of external shocks seems potentially positive. On the other hand, columns increasingly argue that even a change of administration does not guarantee a return to the “old normal”: the Republican‑Democrat split, recurring budget crises, courts constraining the White House — all make American politics unpredictable in the medium term. (theamericanroulette.com)

The Chinese public sphere, by contrast, emphasizes the institutional side of recent events: the Supreme Court decision on the IEEPA is presented as an example that even a “strong president” in the U.S. is ultimately constrained by the system of checks and balances. In Chinese commentary this is often contrasted with China’s own political system — not necessarily in a self‑critical way, but rather to illustrate that systemic predictability can be achieved by different means. Authors of economic reviews on Chinese sites carefully use the American example to stress that relying solely on “administrative” levers in foreign trade makes a country vulnerable to judicial decisions and political pendulum swings. For the Chinese audience this is both an argument for strengthening their own legal and institutional framework and a reminder of the risks of excessive dependence on the U.S. market. (stock.jrj.com.cn)

Finally, beneath the loud headlines about tariffs and Iran there is a quiet but important divergence in the cultural‑political agenda. Chinese diplomacy is actively promoting an image of its soft power amid the global hubbub around Chinese New Year celebrations: Foreign Ministry commentaries emphasize that dozens of countries celebrate the holiday, tourist flows to China during the long holidays surged many times over, and foreign guests “encounter Chinese culture through the spring festivals.” In this discourse the United States appears almost only as context: the statement was published on the embassy’s Washington site, but the focus is on China as a magnet for tourists and a provider of a global cultural agenda. The result is an intriguing contrast: America is discussed as a source of risks, while China talks about itself as a source of celebration and stability. For Beijing this is an opportunity to underscore: while the U.S. issues tariffs and weighs strikes on Iran, China offers the world “a shared celebration” and economic cooperation. (us.china-embassy.gov.cn)

If one attempts to bring these disparate voices into a single outline, the picture looks like this. Germany worries about its industry and security, assessing Washington in terms of “demand shocks” and “security shocks”; Australia views the U.S. as a central but increasingly unreliable anchor of the global financial system; China acts simultaneously as a pragmatic calculator of the gains and risks of American decisions and promotes its own image as a more predictable partner and cultural superpower. The common denominator is a decline in the idealization of the U.S. Leading countries speak of America as an important but problematic element of the world system, whose actions must be watched closely, hedged against, and, where possible, used to exploit emerging legal and economic “windows of opportunity.” This is what a world looks like that no longer debates values with the U.S. but “negotiates” about risks and benefits.

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Washington in the Crosshairs: How South Africa, Russia and South Korea View the US

At the end of February 2026, the United States simultaneously appears in the headlines of very different publications — from South African portals to Russian analytical sites and South Korean business newspapers. But this is no longer the classic conversation about the "leader of the free world": the discussion centers primarily on how Washington's domestic politics hits external partners, how American democracy itself is changing, and how resilient the U.S. financial‑economic gravity center is. At the intersection of these narratives a surprisingly coherent international portrait of the United States emerges: a country with colossal weight, but increasingly seen as an unpredictable and unreliable partner.

One of the key reasons for discussion in South Africa and the wider African press is the February decision of the U.S. Supreme Court, which declared illegal a number of import tariffs the White House had imposed under the International Emergency Economic Powers Act (IEEPA). It was precisely this legal basis that the 2025 tariffs on South African imports relied on. African analytical resource Fatshimetrie writes directly that the 30‑percent tariffs introduced in August 2025, according to South African authorities, threatened to reduce GDP growth by 0.4 percentage points and cost up to 30,000 jobs, and the government had to introduce a temporary employer support scheme to cushion the employment shock. Now the same portal views the Supreme Court's verdict as a chance for South Africa and the continent to "reconsider the terms of trade with the US" and as a reminder that Washington's legal system can, paradoxically, serve as protection against the White House's own protectionist instincts. In the South African discourse this sits alongside a critique of the logic itself: why should the fate of tens of thousands of jobs in Pretoria depend on an internal dispute between American branches of government over the limits of presidential powers? (fbroker.kz)

There, in the South African press and in statements by politicians, a broader theme resurfaces: the politicization of aid and financial flows from the United States. In 2025 the Donald Trump administration froze virtually all bilateral aid to South Africa, including PEPFAR, the world's largest HIV/AIDS program. American and African reports described the dismissal of thousands of healthcare workers and the closure of specialized clinics funded by USAID. South African debate at the level of parties and civil society revolved around the question: how acceptable is it that changes in U.S. domestic politics — from a change of president to battles in Congress — instantly jeopardize the livelihoods of millions in another country. An Inkatha Freedom Party MP in parliamentary debates on the suspension of aid emphasized that Washington acts "within its sovereignty," and precisely for that reason South Africa must sovereignly craft its own response — to protect the most vulnerable without making domestic stability dependent on the will of a foreign donor. (clickorlando.com)

Layered onto this is concern about climate finance. The African Climate Council, citing Bloomberg, describes how in 2025 the United States effectively blocked the approval of a $500 million "green" investment package for South African energy under the Climate Investment Funds, which was supposed to "unlock" another roughly $2.1 billion from multilateral banks. This was a key element of the transition from coal to clean energy. The delay and potential cancellation of these funds in South Africa are interpreted not as a technical episode but as part of a broader Washington trend: withdrawal from multilateral climate mechanisms and reduced participation in climate funds. The authors stress that for countries like South Africa this is not abstract diplomacy, but a question of who and on what terms will finance the painful transformation of the economy. Thus, in the South African view, the US becomes simultaneously a vital but capricious creditor that can suddenly cut off financial life support. (africc.org)

The politically explosive theme of Washington's initiative to accept white South Africans, primarily Afrikaners, as refugees under the pretext of "genocide" of farmers also shapes South African discourse. The Mission South Africa program, launched in February 2025, was perceived in Pretoria as direct interference in internal affairs and an attempt to recast the post‑apartheid land reform agenda in racial terms. President Cyril Ramaphosa's official position, set out in response to the program, is that the white minority is not experiencing persecution that would meet refugee criteria, and the "white genocide" rhetoric is entirely discredited by research. Against this backdrop the expulsion of former South African ambassador to the US Ebrahim Rasool gained special resonance: in March 2025 Secretary of State Marco Rubio declared him persona non grata over accusations directed at Trump and South African billionaire Elon Musk of promoting white supremacy. In South African commentary this step was seen as punishment for trying to name American policies that stoke fears; the trade unions promised Rasool a "hero's welcome" at home, and the opposition Congress of the People even proposed expelling the US chargé d'affaires in response. For South African audiences these episodes confirm that the question of race and historical injustice is not just an internal wound for South Africa but a field of struggle over interpretation in the global discourse, where Washington seeks to impose its reading. (en.wikipedia.org)

Against this background the Trump administration's decision not to invite South Africa to the G20 summit in Miami in December 2026 appears in South African and broader African analyses as the culmination of cooling ties. The official rationale — "treatment of Afrikaners" and a dispute over transferring to South Africa the rights to host a summit — is presented as an example of how Washington turns multilateral platforms into instruments of bilateral pressure. For many commentators in Pretoria this signals that the "Global South" can be excluded from clubs when the White House agenda conflicts with local debates on racial justice and land reform. (en.wikipedia.org)

If Cape Town views the US through the prism of inequality and dependency, Moscow sees it primarily through the prism of strategic rivalry, which in 2026 acquires unusual shades. Russian media and official comments in February discuss not so much the usual confrontation as a complex and contradictory attempt at normalizing relations against the backdrop of Donald Trump's return to the White House. The Russian Foreign Ministry in a recent statement acknowledges that "the process of normalizing Russian‑American relations is going not smoothly," although both sides declare interest, and the presidents agreed on a "high pace of work" and on preventing divergences from escalating into direct confrontation. For the Russian audience this is a double signal: on the one hand, the Kremlin shows it is ready to talk with the White House about lifting some sanctions, cooperating on commodity markets (even to the point of increasing supplies of aluminum and rare earth metals to the US), while on the other it emphasizes that the key knot remains the same: settlement of the conflict around Ukraine. Russian analysts and the presidential press secretary Dmitry Peskov openly link prospects for improved relations to the sequence of steps toward such a settlement. (fontanka.ru)

Equally telling is how Russian experts discuss American domestic political turbulence and its impact on U.S. external strength. One recent analytical article about mass layoffs at The Washington Post treats the media crisis not as a private problem of a single outlet but as "a symptom of an institutional crisis affecting the architecture of democratic discourse" in the US. It's not only about the fate of the "era of big newsrooms" but about how commercialization and politicization of the media market undermine American society's capacity for reasoned discussion — and therefore, in Russian logic, the legitimacy of the US to claim the role of moral arbiter in international affairs. This interpretation finds fertile ground: official Moscow has long claimed that American democracy is degrading, and therefore Washington's accusations against Russia on human rights and freedom of speech are hypocritical. (bakunetwork.org)

At the same time the Russian financial discourse watches American economic decisions closely, especially where they affect global trade and commodity prices. A recent review by a Kazakh‑Russian broker, widely cited in the post‑Soviet information space, analyzes in detail the consequences of the February U.S. Supreme Court decision to cancel import tariffs and the White House's ensuing reaction. According to analysts, the key market driver is that President Trump, in response to the court defeat, announced a "global tariff" first of 10, then 15 percent, using other trade authorities. For the Russian reader this is a story not only about legal subtleties of American law but about Washington's unpredictability as an economic partner: yesterday tariffs are declared illegal, today the same White House finds a workaround. In that picture, a world dependent on the dollar and access to the American market becomes hostage to an internal politico‑legal struggle in the US. (fbroker.kz)

South Korea in recent weeks has looked at the United States primarily through a financial‑economic lens, but the angle here is quite different from Moscow and Pretoria: Washington remains the main reference point and center of gravity, but anxiety about its stability has noticeably risen. Korean business and academic blogs analyzing February newspapers tell readers about sharp market swings following the nomination of a new candidate to chair the Federal Reserve — Fed governor and former external director of American "Coupang Inc.," Kevin Warsh. Korean writers note that immediately after his nomination he resigned from his position as an independent director at Coupang, and markets took the appointment as a signal of dollar strength and reduced attractiveness of "safe‑haven" assets: gold, silver and cryptocurrencies plunged, and bitcoin fell below $80,000. In the Korean discourse this is presented as an illustration of the enormous influence of U.S. monetary policy on the fate of national corporations investing in the US and on the strategies of households actively investing in crypto assets and precious metals. (moneymaker1000.com)

Interestingly, few Korean commentators question the centrality of the US in the global financial architecture — on the contrary, they discuss how best to adapt to it. Authors advise private investors to account for a possible change in the Fed cycle: if the new chair is less aggressive in cutting rates than expected, the dollar will remain strong longer, which would make the stocks of exporters from developing countries and high‑risk assets vulnerable. Against this backdrop Korean discussion scarcely deals with American political polarization as such: domestic storms in Washington matter only insofar as they determine the trajectory of the dollar and interest rates.

Despite the differences among the three perspectives — South African, Russian and South Korean — common themes emerge. First, there is a sense of heightened unpredictability of the United States. For South Africa this shows up in the fact that a court decision or a presidential decree in Washington determines tariffs, the fate of HIV programs and climate finance; for Russia — that the US has in a few years gone from maximum pressure to attempts at "normalization," while easily changing tone depending on the domestic political cycle; for South Korea — market nervousness at every hint of a change in Fed leadership, when one day of news triggers tens of billions of dollars of asset repricing.

Second, in all three cases American domestic politics ceases to be perceived as separate from foreign policy. South Africa sees how internal struggles over racial issues and the ideological stance of the Trump administration spill over into programs accepting "white refugees" and into diplomatic scandals affecting its image and participation in the G20. Russia observes with interest how crises in the American media and court rulings on trade policy undermine basic institutions, giving Moscow arguments about "double standards." South Korea, through the Fed lens, realizes that the outcome of U.S. political processes determines the cost of credit and savings for Korean households.

And finally, a third shared trend is the rise of efforts toward autonomy, but at different levels. In South African texts and political speeches the motive of "diversifying trading partners" and not relying solely on American aid programs — whether in health or energy — is heard more frequently. The Russian elite continues rhetoric of "sovereignization," using every American move — from tariffs to a media crisis — as an argument for reorienting economic and political ties toward the "non‑Western" world. South Korea, less inclined to geopolitical ruptures, speaks of autonomy in a more technocratic key: hedging risks, diversifying portfolios, increasing the resilience of national companies to American cycles.

The result is a paradoxical image: America remains the principal source of global impulses — financial, political, ideological — but is less and less perceived as a guarantor of stability. For South Africa it is a partner whose aid can save millions of lives, yet whose political leadership can cut that flow off overnight. For Russia it is an adversary and at the same time a necessary participant in any serious negotiations about war and peace, on which commodity prices and the scale of sanctions depend. For South Korea it is the center of the world monetary system, whose decisions make Asian exchanges and the fates of tech giants tremble.

These three perspectives, despite their different starting interests and ideological positions, converge in one point: the future of relations with the United States, in their view, can no longer be built on the assumption of Washington as a reliable and consistent "anchor" of the world system. Rather, the US is becoming a powerful but capricious node in the global network, whose signals require constant adaptation while simultaneously building one's own mechanisms to protect against American decisions made far beyond Pretoria, Moscow or Seoul. And it is precisely this — not only specific scandals, tariffs or appointments — that is shaping the tone of discussions about the United States in various corners of the world today.

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How the World Sees America Today

Around the United States a knot of expectations, fears and calculations is tightening again. In Ukraine, South Korea and China the US is simultaneously perceived as an indispensable security architect and the main source of instability. Several lines of tension converge at this crossroads: American pressure over a settlement in Ukraine, tariff escalation with global partners, debate over Washington’s role in Asia and the fate of US–China relations. Each country views Washington through its own wounds and interests, but common motifs run through all three: fatigue with American unipolarity, fear of sudden shifts by the White House, and attempts to extract maximum benefit from American power without being crushed by it.

The most emotional and existential storyline is America’s role in seeking peace for Ukraine. Ukrainian press and experts closely follow the tripartite negotiation format Ukraine–US–Russia, from Abu Dhabi and Geneva to a planned new round “around February 27” 2026, which the head of the Office of the President Kyrylo Budanov recently mentioned. Ukrainian sources describe this as a chance but also as a source of severe pressure: in an interview with AFP President Volodymyr Zelensky openly acknowledged that Washington is demanding territorial concessions. “Both the Americans and the Russians say that if you want the war to end tomorrow, get out of Donbas,” AFP quoted him as saying, a line picked up by both Ukrainian and Russian media. In Kyiv this is perceived as a painful clash of two realities: without the US it is impossible either to wage war or to negotiate, yet the US, according to part of Ukrainian society, is pushing for peace at the cost of ceding part of the territory.

Against this background Ukrainian commentators split into two camps. Some speak of an “inevitable compromise under pressure from allies” and emphasize that the Trump administration, judging by leaks and statements, is increasingly tying further aid to Kyiv’s willingness to “take a painful step” for a ceasefire. Others remind that public opinion in Ukraine remains extremely sensitive to any ideas of “giving up Donbas,” and warn that if a peace looks like an externally imposed dictate, it will undermine the legitimacy not only of the authorities but of the pro-American orientation itself. In this debate the US simultaneously appears as guarantor of a possible postwar order (including a promised role in monitoring a ceasefire) and as a force ready to trade Ukrainian territories for a quick result.

On the other side of the border, in the Russian and broader Eurasian information space, the US still appears as the main director of events around Ukraine, but the tone is shifting: the idea increasingly heard is that Washington itself has walked into a strategic dead end. Notably, an essay by Ted Snyder, a commentator for the American magazine The American Conservative, gained resonance in Russian-language media; he urged the West to accept that “Ukraine will not become a NATO member” and argued that the path to peace lies not through maximalist pressure but through “diplomacy and compromise.” Russian outlets such as RIA Novosti and InoSMI eagerly picked up these theses, stressing that such voices are now heard inside the US itself, not only in Moscow. In the popular interpretation this looks like: even in America they are beginning to understand that it was impossible to impose Russia’s defeat through Ukraine’s hands, and Washington is now looking for a “way out with minimal damage to its image.”

This line is fed by reports that at closed meetings American representatives voice surprisingly ambitious timelines for a peace agreement — as far as “March 2026,” according to Reuters, cited by a number of outlets. For Ukrainian audiences such timeframes sound like an unattainable ideal or a dangerous illusion; for Russians — as confirmation that the US “is rushing at any cost to close the Ukrainian front” to focus on confrontation with China. In both cases America appears as a key but not omnipotent player, whose internal constraints — elections, economic problems, court cases — are closely intertwined with the question of war and peace in Eastern Europe.

From an Asian perspective, Russia and Ukraine recede into the background, yielding to another axis — the US–China rivalry and its influence on regional security. In Beijing recent events — from Foreign Minister Wang Yi’s speech at the Munich Security Conference to the White House’s new trade decisions — revive an old dilemma: to bet on a long, even if conflictual, coevolution with the US, or to prepare for a protracted confrontation. Asked about the prospects for bilateral relations, Wang Yi reiterated theses that Chinese diplomacy has cultivated for years: “China has always viewed and structured relations with the United States from the height of responsibility to history, its people and the world,” recalling Xi Jinping’s formula of “mutual respect, peaceful coexistence and mutual benefit.” In his speech he drew a sharp line between two scenarios: one — if Washington “objectively and rationally” accepts China’s increased strength and pursues a “pragmatic policy” without attempts at “containment and smearing,” then “the future is cooperation”; the other — if the US continues to push “supply-chain ruptures, create anti-China blocs and push Taiwan toward independence,” then “the two countries will slide into confrontation.” Wang Yi, which is particularly important for the Chinese audience, emphasized: “The prospect is bright,” because there is no other sustainable architecture of peace besides these principles, and “the question is only what choice America will make.” Chinese commentary on his speech is dominated by cautious optimism mixed with distrust: many note that Beijing demonstratively leaves the door open for a “reset” under Trump, yet is preparing the public for the view that the US still sees China as a systemic rival.

At the same time Chinese economic and business media analyze with alarm the White House’s new trade decisions, first and foremost Donald Trump’s sharp declaration to raise the global base tariff from 10 to 15 percent and to prepare a package of additional “legally airtight” duties. Chinese commentators note that this is a direct response to a recent US Supreme Court decision that found part of previous tariff measures beyond presidential authority, and that Trump is now trying to “rewrite the rules,” not abandoning his “tariff identity.” China’s financial sector sees this as another round of American “America First” policy, where courts and Congress become not a counterweight but a tool to reset the course. For Beijing this is a signal: trade pressure is not a temporary anomaly but a structural part of American containment strategy.

These steps by Washington are viewed with concern not only in China but also in South Korea, where an export-oriented economy’s dependence on the American market and the dollar system makes any tariff escalation painful. South Korean reviews note a duality: on one hand, Seoul objectively benefited from past rounds of US–China “decoupling,” attracting some production chains and investment; on the other hand, a new wave of global tariffs and a possible escalation with Canada and Mexico — already turning into a full-scale trade war — undermines the predictability of the system on which the “Korean economic miracle” is based. In Korean public discourse the US is increasingly described as “an ally in security and a source of risk in the economy”: the guarantor of the nuclear umbrella against North Korea and at the same time a country that, with a single presidential tweet, can upend the rules of global markets.

This pairing of security and unpredictability is especially noticeable in South Korean discussions of American policy in the region. Against the backdrop of the escalation of the Iranian nuclear dossier — the US special envoy says Tehran “in about a week” could reach industrial capacity to build a bomb — and the ongoing crisis in Ukraine, fears in Seoul intensify about Washington’s “diffused attention.” Commentators debate whether the US has the political and military will to simultaneously hold a hard line on Iran, contain Russia and at the same time deter possible provocations from North Korea and China. Korean press increasingly argues that American strategy in the Indo-Pacific needs a “real, not declarative reassessment,” and that Seoul will have to invest more in its own capabilities, even without breaking the alliance with Washington.

In the American image of power projected to these countries, the figure of a second-term Trump now dominates — at once strong and weakened. Chinese and Korean portals relay poll data showing the president’s approval rating falling to around 39 percent, a high degree of polarization and distrust in his “honesty and mental clarity,” and broad disapproval of his tariff and immigration policies among a large part of society. One Chinese-language review, based on material from French radio RFI, said the coming days will be an “exam” for Trump ahead of the 2026 midterms: after the Supreme Court blocked his “signature” tariffs and Democrats prepare a boycott of the State of the Union, the speech in Congress turns into an arena for the struggle over the legitimacy of the course. In these retellings America looks less like a monolithic superpower and more like a country split over its president — a perception in Kyiv, Seoul and Beijing seen both as a risk and as an opening.

Interestingly, in all three countries attention is focused not only on foreign-policy statements but on how American domestic dynamics undermine its external power. In China and South Korea they emphasize that even key foreign decisions — imposing tariffs, government shutdown and then the swift passage of a temporary budget deal in Congress to end a shutdown — appear hostage to internal partisan battles. In Ukraine and its neighborhood many wonder how reliable White House guarantees are if the situation in Washington could radically change in two years as a result of another electoral cycle. This fatigue with American “cyclical unpredictability” — a motive that changes course every few years but demands strategic loyalty from allies — is a rare common denominator for such different countries.

And yet, despite criticism and weariness, almost no one seriously proposes an alternative to American engagement. Ukrainian officials simultaneously resent pressure over Donbas and stress that they consider the US role in monitoring a possible ceasefire “a very important result” of negotiations. The Chinese foreign minister says that however the confrontation develops, “the prospect for US–China relations is ultimately bright,” because only “mutual respect and cooperation” between the two powers can ensure global stability. South Korean commentators warn of tariff and military risks but do not question the fundamental value of the alliance, especially given the unpredictability of the DPRK.

This is the paradox of contemporary perceptions of the US: it is at once too strong for the world to ignore and too unstable to rely on completely. For Ukraine this means an ongoing need to balance gratitude for support with resistance to pressure to make concessions. For China — a delicate play between demonstrating openness to “cooperation” and preparing for the worst-case scenario of confrontation. For South Korea — life in a world where the security guarantor increasingly becomes the main source of economic uncertainty. In all these countries they watch America not as a distant superpower but as a factor that daily affects the price of bread, exchange rates, the likelihood of war and the chance of peace. That is why any Washington gesture, from new tariffs to quietly stated timelines for peace in Ukraine, becomes the subject of intense analysis — of hopes and fears at once.

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Venezuela's shadow and fatigue with America: how Germany, Russia and Turkey view the US today

In February 2026 the image of the United States abroad is shaped not by a single issue but by a knot of events: a military intervention in Venezuela, a sharp turn in Washington's foreign policy, a slowdown of the American economy, and the way the new administration speaks to the world — especially to Europe and the global South. Germany, Russia and Turkey respond to these processes differently, but their debates unexpectedly converge on several key points: alarm about unilateral US use of force, growing distrust of "American leadership," and a pragmatic interest in the dollar and the US economy on which they still depend.

The first and most sensitive nerve is the January US intervention in Venezuela. German, Russian and Turkish media discuss it not as a local episode in Latin America but as a symptom of a broader American readiness to bypass international law. In Germany this theme overlays the painful cooling of transatlantic relations; in Russia it fits into a long-standing narrative about "US hegemony"; in Turkey it prompts a pragmatic, almost cynical question: what does this mean for global turbulence, oil prices and the dollar exchange rate.

In Germany the Venezuela episode has sparked an unusually heated debate. Bundestag party reactions were split: the CDU/CSU foreign policy spokesman presented Maduro's removal as an "encouraging signal" for Venezuela, while the SPD and Greens faction leaders called US actions a "serious violation of international law" and demanded that the German government formally adopt that legal assessment. The Left Party leader went further, accusing Donald Trump of "state terrorism," while an AfD MP emphasized the principle of non‑intervention and urged to "hear the American justification for the strike" before drawing final conclusions, as reported in a review of German politicians' reactions to the intervention published by Deutschlandfunk and catalogued in the Wikipedia article "International reactions to the 2026 United States intervention in Venezuela." This is a rare case in which even traditional transatlanticists in Berlin are forced to navigate between past loyalty to the US and the legal frameworks of the UN. (en.wikipedia.org)

Against this background the old German‑American conflict over values and the style of US politics has only intensified. The British Financial Times, in a recent piece on Germany's "painful estrangement" from the United States, quotes figures of the old West German elite — such as former Munich Security Conference head Wolfgang Ischinger — speaking no longer of a "crisis" but of "betrayal" by Washington. According to that analysis, Germany is experiencing a deep value split with America: from disappointment with Trump to distrust of the new right‑conservative course and the manner in which American leadership addresses Europe through the prism of migration, "civilizational" struggle and Christian nationalism. (ft.com)

The emotional tone intensified after speeches by senior members of the current US administration at the Munich Security Conference. A column in The Guardian, analyzing Secretary of State Marco Rubio's speech in Munich, notes that Europeans received it as a softer version of last year's hard rhetoric by J.D. Vance, but that it carried the same set of MAGA ideas: skepticism toward international institutions, an emphasis on "white Christian civilization," rejection of globalism and migration. European leaders, including Chancellor Friedrich Merz and French President Emmanuel Macron, publicly distanced themselves from that worldview and again spoke about the need for "strategic autonomy for Europe," even discussing independent nuclear deterrence. (theguardian.com) For the German debate this is important: criticism of the US increasingly sounds less like the stance of "leftist pacifists" and more like that of the mainstream center, worried that America is pushing Europe into a world where it will have to rely on its own strength.

German public opinion confirms this evolution. A YouGov poll, recently reported by The Guardian, showed a sharp drop in positive attitudes toward the US across the Western European belt after a series of provocative US moves, including the high‑profile episode of an attempt to "buy" Greenland: in Denmark 84% of respondents expressed an unfriendly view of the US, in France — 62%, and in Germany, Italy, Spain and the UK antipathy toward America reached its worst levels in a decade. The characteristic conclusion of the German debate follows: US military and economic power is not denied, but more and more people say Europe should build an autonomous policy rather than automatically relying on Washington. (theguardian.com)

In Russia discussion of the United States is traditionally colored by anti‑hegemonic rhetoric, but the Venezuela intervention and Washington's current line give that rhetoric fresh material. Officials in Moscow emphasize that US actions in Caracas fit a "long series of illegal regime changes" — from Iraq to Libya — and try to use them to mobilize the global South against Western sanctions and military support for Ukraine. The fact that Germany and other EU countries now more loudly speak of US "violations of international law" is presented by Russian commentators as confirmation of their own narrative: the West, they say, can no longer claim a moral monopoly.

Within Russia itself, where state media have long portrayed the US as the main rival, the Venezuela theme is used to show: "they can, but we cannot." Talk shows and columns draw parallels between the American operation in Venezuela and Russia's actions in Ukraine, pushing the message of "double standards" and "the right of the strong." Unlike the German press, there is almost no discussion of legal subtleties or internal US political debates: for the Russian media field the symbolic gesture matters — another proof of Washington's "aggressive nature."

The Turkish debate about the US is the most down‑to‑earth and pragmatic. The key angle is economic: the United States is both a source of instability and a key player on which the dollar, global demand and Federal Reserve decisions depend. Turkish financial outlets analyze fresh US GDP data in detail: for example, Dünya in the article "ABD ekonomisinde sert yavaşlama" emphasizes that in Q4 2025 the US economy grew only 1.4% annualized while expectations were 2.8%, and annual growth was 2.2% — significantly below 2024. The authors link this to the 43‑day federal government shutdown and cuts in public spending. (dunya.com)

In the left‑nationalist paper Aydınlık the British economist Michael Roberts writes that the much‑praised "economic boom" of the Trump team looks far less impressive against the real numbers: without a surge in investment in equipment and software related to AI investments, 2025 GDP growth would have been below 2%. Roberts notes that despite these problems the US economy still grows faster than most G7 countries, but concludes: for Turkey and other emerging markets this means a combination of continued dependence on American demand and growing vulnerability to dollar policy volatility. (aydinlik.com.tr)

At the same time Turkish analysts read Fed minutes closely. The magazine Ekonomist, in a note on the latest "Fed tutanakları," records that some FOMC members are ready to support rate cuts if inflation continues to slow, while others insist on keeping the current 3.50–3.75% range longer due to uncertainty around growth and the labor market. For Ankara this is not an academic question: how long the dollar remains expensive and US bond yields stay high affects pressure on the lira and the need to keep domestic rates tight, which constrains lending and growth in Turkey. (ekonomist.com.tr)

Turkish markets also live in the logic of geopolitics. Broker and investment bank comments, for example in GCM Yatırım's USD/TRY review, directly link exchange rate volatility with accumulating geopolitical risks on the US–Iran line and in the Middle East more broadly: "ABD–İran hattındaki jeopolitik risklerin ekonomik göstergelerin önüne geçtiği bir haftayı geride bırakıyoruz," one bulletin states, noting that the dollar index DXY remains in the upper part of the medium‑term 95–100 range. (gcmyatirim.com.tr) In translation from professional jargon this means: however much authorities would like to focus on domestic inflation and the budget, Turkey is forced to keep looking to Washington — its sanction decisions, military moves and rhetoric.

At the intersection of these three debates — German, Russian and Turkish — common motifs emerge that often escape readers who rely only on American media. First, the Venezuela intervention has become a kind of litmus test: in Germany it further undermines the moral authority of the US as "guardian of the international order," in Russia it serves as a handy case for anti‑Western propaganda, and in Turkey it marks that Washington remains willing to take unilateral forceful actions that can crash oil prices and increase market turbulence.

Second, in almost all three countries there is growing desire for greater autonomy — but understood differently. For Germany it is Europe's strategic autonomy: discussion of its own nuclear option, NATO reform, strengthening the EU defense industry under the Zeitenwende slogans written about extensively in German and English‑language press. (ft.com) For Russia "autonomy" means de facto opposing the American world, betting on alternative blocs and settlements in national currencies. For Turkey it is the art of balancing between the US, Russia and regional players to maximize gains and minimize risks for its own economy.

Third, a motif of fatigue with American exceptionalism is audible everywhere. In Germany this appears in polls and the emotional words of former ambassadors and diplomats who ten years ago were convinced Atlanticists. (theguardian.com) In Russia — in the now‑familiar skepticism toward any "democratic" arguments coming from Washington. In Turkey — in irritation at the fact that any Fed policy shift or new US sanctions against third countries immediately hit the lira, inflation and the social well‑being of Turkish citizens.

And yet none of the three countries harbors illusions: the United States remains a central link in the world economy and security. German factories depend on the American market and technologies; German security depends on the American nuclear umbrella and NATO infrastructure. Russian elites, however much they talk about dedollarization, understand the weight of the US in global financial flows and the sanctions system. Turkey, standing on the front line of many conflicts, proceeds from the fact that no serious regional balance is possible without taking Washington into account.

Therefore today's attitudes toward the US in Berlin, Moscow and Ankara cannot be reduced either to simple anti‑Americanism or to past admiration of American power. They are more complex: a mixture of dependence and resistance, pragmatism and emotional disappointment. And the more often Washington demonstrates a willingness to take unilateral forceful steps, as in Venezuela, and the harsher its tone toward allies in Munich, the stronger the conviction grows in these countries that the world has entered an era in which one must not only cooperate with the US but also learn to live with them while relying on them less and less.

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How the World Argues with America: Israel, South Africa and Saudi Arabia on the US’s New Role

At the end of February 2026, the United States again finds itself at the center of heated international debates, but the perspectives in these disputes differ sharply depending on the vantage point within the global South. In Jerusalem, every signal from Washington about the war in Gaza, a potential annexation of the West Bank and long-term security guarantees for Israel is read closely. In Riyadh, discussions focus on how to leverage American engagement in Middle East processes without becoming dependent on the whims of Washington policy. In South Africa, many still view the US not only as a rival superpower but also as a symbol of Western hypocrisy when it comes to human rights, wars and sanctions regimes.

On the surface it seems everyone is discussing the same thing — American policy in the Middle East and its consequences. But listening to local voices reveals a more complex picture: Israel disputes with the US over how “unconditional” American support should be; Saudi Arabia debates how to combine partnership with Washington and strategic autonomy; South Africa questions whether a “just” world order is possible under the leadership of a country that, in the view of many South African commentators, violates the very principles it preaches. Meanwhile, Washington’s new moves — from a “Board of Peace” for Gaza to a strengthened military alliance with Israel and tough rhetoric on Iran and Venezuela — add fuel to each of these debates. (apnews.com)

One central issue provoking cross-cutting reactions remains the role of the US in the postwar order in Gaza and, more broadly, in the Middle East security architecture. In Washington, the Trump administration presents the launch of the Board of Peace and a multilateral mission in Gaza as a turning point: at the first meeting in the US capital the president announced multibillion-dollar pledges for Gaza’s reconstruction and the creation of multinational stabilization forces that will include contingents from Muslim countries such as Indonesia, Morocco and Kazakhstan. (apnews.com) Formally, this is supposed to look like a move away from the logic of unilateral American interventions of the Iraq era toward a model of “collective conflict management.” However, these steps are read differently across world regions.

Israeli analysts see in the new format primarily an attempt by Washington to institutionalize its dominance. Israeli media compare the Board of Peace to an “alternative UN” which, in the words of one commentator, “allows the US to choose which conflicts deserve attention and which do not, and who sits at the table and who is left outside the door.” It is also emphasized that American involvement is accompanied by unprecedented packages of military aid to Israel: in late 2025 the Pentagon signed a contract for the delivery of dozens of the latest F‑15IA aircraft worth up to $8.6 billion, while parallel negotiations began on a new ten‑year security agreement that is meant to replace the military aid memorandum expiring in 2028. (en.wikipedia.org) Against this backdrop, some Israeli commentators view the Board of Peace as a tool to cement the US–Israel strategic linkage for decades to come.

But even within Israel there is no consensus on the American initiative. Right‑wing commentators stress that the participation of Muslim countries in multinational forces in Gaza is a “double shield” for Israel: on the one hand, it shifts some security responsibility onto others; on the other, it gives Washington political cover before the Islamic world. Left‑wing and centrist commentators question whether this will result in the US once again “freezing” the conflict without addressing the key issue — the status of Palestinian statehood. They point out that simultaneously with the launch of the Board of Peace, the Israeli government is moving toward the de‑facto annexation of a significant part of the West Bank by mass designations of land as “state property,” and a number of lawyers openly call this preparation for a formal extension of sovereignty. (en.wikipedia.org) Washington’s reluctance to strongly criticize these steps is interpreted as tacit acceptance of a de facto abandonment of the “two‑state” solution.

In Riyadh the view on the same US moves is different. Saudi commentators in pro‑government media note that US engagement in Gaza’s postwar order and the strengthening of its alliance with Israel objectively expand the space for Saudi maneuver: Washington must reckon with the kingdom’s role as a key player in the Arab and Islamic worlds. Against the backdrop of recent experiences — from sharp clashes over OPEC+ production cuts to American attempts to limit military cooperation with Riyadh that provoked strong criticism in Saudi media — many authors emphasize that the kingdom is ready to cooperate with the US but does not intend to play the “junior partner.” In one article about past disputes over oil policy, American accusations of “politicizing oil” were called “populist rhetoric” that ignores that “the kingdom has its own long‑term interests and alternative options.” (alamatonline.com)

This produces an ambivalent reaction to the idea of a Board of Peace: on the one hand, Saudi diplomats are interested in being part of a key format that shapes Gaza’s future and broader Middle East settlement; on the other hand, Saudi analytical texts show wariness toward any initiative where Washington acts as the “director” and assigns roles. Unlike in Israel, Riyadh more often stresses that new structures should not replace the UN and existing international norms — this is an important marker of a desire to prevent the US from monopolizing the “legitimacy” of military and political decisions in the Middle East.

South Africa views the US project of a Board of Peace through the lens of its own quarrels with Washington over double standards. In recent years South Africa has actively positioned itself as a voice of the global South, opposing the “selective” application of international law — from Palestine to Ukraine. South African editorial columns on American foreign policy often raise the question: why is Washington willing to create parallel formats when conflicts involve its allies, but insist on strict UN procedures in cases where that helps to contain rivals? For South African commentators this approach calls into question the very idea of the US as a “global arbiter.”

A second thread of debate, present in all three countries, concerns how consistent the US is on sovereignty and interventions. For many, the key example was the US military operation in Venezuela in 2026, which included strikes on drug cartels and the arrest of President Nicolás Maduro. Washington’s official discourse framed the action as a fight against a “narco‑state” and the defense of democracy, but in Venezuela and more broadly in Latin America it was perceived as an attempt to “seize resources,” primarily oil; Vice President Delcy Rodríguez declared that the country “will never again be anyone’s colony — of old empires, of new ones, or of empires in decline.” (en.wikipedia.org)

In Israel the Venezuelan episode is discussed far less often, but experts draw parallels: if the US is willing to act so decisively in Latin America where it does not have allies on the scale of Israel, how reliable are its guarantees not to interfere in the internal affairs of partners if political winds change in Washington? Conservative commentators conclude that Israel must rely even more on its own “self‑sufficient power,” even while receiving unprecedented weapons packages from the US. Liberal authors, by contrast, see the Venezuelan operation as confirmation that the American elite has not abandoned the logic of “regime change,” and therefore Israel cannot indefinitely ignore international norms while counting on automatic American cover.

In Saudi Arabia, discussion of the Venezuelan case overlays a long‑standing fear that any radical internal transformation in the kingdom could become a pretext for external pressure under the banners of human rights or counter‑terrorism. Saudi analysts recall the Iraqi and Libyan scenarios, contrasting them with the current course of elite‑led reforms without allowing chaos. In this context the American intervention in Latin America is perceived as a reminder: Washington is still ready to act by force if it deems its interests — energy or geopolitical — threatened, and rhetoric about democracy is tailored to the situation. For Saudi commentators this is an argument for strengthening ties with China and other alternative power centers — not to replace the US, but to balance it.

South African media and experts typically view the Venezuelan operation through the historical lens of anti‑colonial struggle. Commentators often say that in Latin America, as once in Africa, “only the forms of dependence have changed.” For a South African audience where the memory of third‑world support for the anti‑apartheid struggle remains strong, arguments about the “end of empires” and “new empires in decline” resonate emotionally. They reinforce skepticism toward any unilateral US actions and push support for multilateral platforms like BRICS as an alternative to American leadership.

A third major theme uniting debates in Israel, Saudi Arabia and South Africa is the domestic American political dispute over Israel and how it projects onto the rest of the world. A recent interview with US Ambassador to Israel Mike Huckabee, in which he appealed to biblical borders “from the Nile to the Euphrates” and effectively said it “would be fine if Israel took everything,” unleashed a storm of criticism in the Arab and Muslim world. Egypt, Saudi Arabia and other members of the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation condemned those words as “incendiary” and contrary to international law, demanding clear clarifications from the State Department. (apnews.com)

For Israel’s right‑wing audience Huckabee’s statements confirm that Christian‑Zionist currents remain strong in the American elite and are ready to justify almost any Israeli territorial claims with religious arguments. But even in Israel many commentators saw the remarks as a double signal: on one hand, an expression of “unconditional love”; on the other, further evidence that the fate of the region in Washington is still often viewed through ideological and theological lenses rather than the prism of actual balances of power and Palestinian rights. Left‑wing and centrist observers fear that such statements only deepen Israel’s international isolation, reinforcing the narrative that its support is based not on universal principles but on a specific religious‑political alliance within the US.

In the Saudi and broader Arab press the reaction was much harsher. There Huckabee is perceived not as an eccentric politician but as an official representative of a country whose word carries weight in the UN Security Council and military coalitions. Saudi newspapers described his words as “a dangerous revanchist discourse” that could inflame radical sentiments on both sides of the conflict. At the same time Saudi authors note the domestic American context: the interview is part of a wider Republican debate in which figures akin to Tucker‑Carlson‑style nationalists increasingly ask why Israel holds such a privileged place in American politics when the US itself faces growing social and economic problems. (theguardian.com)

For South Africa these debates within the American right are further confirmation that US support for Israel is not monolithic, and therefore pressure from the global South and international law can, over time, shift the balance. South African lawyers and activists pursuing accountability for Israel’s actions in the occupied territories are watching such signals closely, seeing in them an opportunity to fracture Western consensus.

Finally, in all three countries discussion continues about the “softer” dimensions of American influence — from cultural and educational policy to diaspora dynamics. In Israel there is active reporting on a shift among some American Jews, especially youth, who increasingly participate in anti‑Israel campus protests and form progressive Jewish organizations critical of Israeli policy in Gaza and the West Bank. In one Israeli piece these groups were described as “a dangerous phenomenon” capable of splitting the American Jewish community and weakening the traditional pro‑Israel lobby in Washington. (ynet.co.il)

Saudi Arabia, for its part, watches how the US treats foreign students and academic exchange. Scandals over visa cancellations and expulsions of foreign professors for participating in protests are raised in English‑language diplomatic outlets, where former ambassadors and senior officials warn that a campaign against “undesirable speech” by foreigners undermines the image of the US as a center of free thought and limits its soft power. (afsa.org) For Riyadh, which invests heavily in international education and sending students abroad, this is troubling: if access to American universities becomes politicized, incentives will grow to turn to alternative educational centers in Europe and Asia.

In South Africa all these issues — from campus politics in the US to reforms in global health under an “America First” slogan — fit into a larger debate about whether the United States remains an attractive model to emulate. Many South African commentators worry that by cutting aid while tightening control over who may speak on American soil, Washington sends the world a message: values are giving way to transactional calculations.

Taken together, these varied reactions produce a contradictory but revealing picture. For Israel, the US remains an indispensable strategic patron, but the more tangible that support becomes, the greater the concern that it may “blind” the country, pushing it toward actions that further complicate its international standing. For Saudi Arabia, America is a necessary but not the only partner: Riyadh seeks to use American power to stabilize the region without allowing it to dictate the kingdom’s internal and energy policies. For South Africa, the US is an important but far from flawless actor whose interventions and human‑rights rhetoric are inevitably viewed through the prism of a colonial past and the struggle for genuine, not declaratory, equality among states.

In that sense, today’s debate about America in Israel, Saudi Arabia and South Africa is not merely a set of local reactions to particular statements or operations. It is part of a broader reassessment of the US role in the world, where fewer countries are willing to regard Washington as the sole center of legitimacy and security, yet many still consider it too powerful to simply ignore. It appears that attitudes toward the United States in the coming years will unfold between these poles — necessity and caution.

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America under Fire: China, Brazil and Germany Debate US Actions

At the end of February 2026, the topic of the United States again became one of the main storylines on the global agenda — but not in the abstract form of “anti‑Americanism,” rather through several very concrete crises. First, the lightning operation by the US in Venezuela to capture Nicolás Maduro and the subsequent intention to try him on American soil provoked an explosion of commentary from Latin America to Europe. Second, the US Supreme Court’s decision to declare a significant portion of the “Trump” global tariffs illegal shook trading partners and markets, while Donald Trump himself responded with a new wave of tariffs. Finally, in China and Germany, growing domestic uncertainty in the US is being viewed as a symptom of a shift: a system that set the rules for decades is increasingly displaying both strength and unpredictability.

Discussion of Washington in Beijing, Brasília and Berlin does not reduce to a single line. But in all three societies common themes are visible: irritation at the unilateralism of American actions, an attempt to understand how far the current Trump administration will go in its second term, and a pragmatic calculation of how to adapt to this “new old” US.

The central nerve of the debates became the US operation in Venezuela on January 3, 2026, which led to Maduro’s ouster and his delivery into American jurisdiction. In Brazil this event was immediately read not only as a question of democracy but also of sovereignty. In an interview with India Today, widely quoted in the Brazilian press, President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva said that if the former Venezuelan leader must be tried, it should be done in Venezuela itself, not across the ocean, and called it unacceptable that one head of state is arrested by another state. The Spanish‑language version of his remarks is analyzed in detail in El País, which emphasizes that Lula sees a dangerous precedent in US actions and believes Washington is more concerned with control over oil than with real democratic choice in Caracas — he says the Americans “put under control” the transitional process and use it to redistribute influence over the country’s resources. (elpais.com)

Against this background, within Brazil itself a separate point of irritation was Washington’s dismissive attitude toward international criticism. In an interview that Secretary of State Marco Rubio gave in Slovakia, and which is analyzed in detail by Poder360, he acknowledged that “many countries did not like what we did in Venezuela,” but immediately added: “E daí?” — “So what?” Rubio emphasizes that the operation was carried out “in the interests of US national security” and that allies’ displeasure will not prevent further cooperation if it suits Washington. (poder360.com.br) For Latin American commentators this short phrase became the perfect quintessence of how they view contemporary American foreign policy: rational but cynical, ready to hear complaints without changing course by a degree.

Chinese analytical centers view the Venezuelan episode through a different lens. Beijing’s discourse, published in university and party outlets, ties it to a broader US line of forcefully cementing its status in the Western hemisphere. In the typically Chinese analytical style this is presented as an example of “instrumentalizing international law”: a formal justification via the fight against drug trafficking and corruption is combined with the de facto undermining of the principle of non‑intervention and sovereign equality. At the same time Chinese authors are cautious in tone: it is not about direct support for Maduro, but about warning that the “Caracas precedent” could be applied to any regime deemed inconvenient by Washington.

In Germany the Venezuela topic is less emotional, but fits into a broader skepticism regarding the US course. In surveys of German and Belgian newspapers, summarized for example in BRF’s press digest, it is emphasized that Washington increasingly acts “by the law of the strong,” and Europeans have to retrospectively find ways to minimize risks. In the view of many German commentators, the operation in Venezuela is a signal that under Donald Trump the US has finally stopped treating European consultations as a mandatory preliminary stage. (brf.be)

If the Venezuelan crisis became emotional, the trade crisis is truly material. The US Supreme Court’s decision last week to declare a large part of the tariffs introduced by Trump in 2025 under the National Emergencies Act of 1977 illegal caused almost physical relief in European markets. German channel n‑tv describes how after the verdict the DAX index shot up: investors took it as a signal that the “Trump tariff club” might lose its force. The judges, by majority, ruled that the cited law “does not authorize the president to impose tariffs,” thereby delineating the boundaries of executive power in the trade sphere. (n-tv.de)

But the relief was short‑lived. Just hours later, as the Belgian Gazet van Antwerpen reports and BRF cites, the “peeved Trump” responded to the defeat with a new 10‑percent tariff “against the whole world,” relying on a different provision of trade law. (brf.be) German press reads this as confirmation of a long‑held suspicion: tighter judicial control does not change Washington’s fundamental course, it merely changes the legal instruments.

In Brazil the reaction to this American “tariff pendulum” is far less academic: local outlets immediately focus on direct risks to their own economy. The center‑left portal Brasil247 notes that despite the Supreme Court’s decision, the investigation program against Brazil and China continues: the Trump administration has kept in effect the Section 301 trade investigation under the Trade Act of 1974, initiated in July 2025, and uses accusations of “unfair competition” as a pretext for pressure. (brasil247.com) For Brazilian commentators this confirms an old Latin suspicion: legal battles in Washington matter, but in the end American policy will seek loopholes to preserve levers of influence.

Against this backdrop, economic analysis of the US in the Brazilian press acquires a shade of hidden anxiety. The portal O Brasilianista, summarizing data from the US Department of Commerce, highlights that US GDP growth slowed to 2.2% in 2025 from 2.8% the year before, and that in the fourth quarter the economy grew just 1.4% at an annualized rate. The personal consumption expenditures price index and the PCE price index rose 2.6%, as in 2024 — meaning inflation seems under control but has not disappeared. (obrasilianista.com.br) In the Brazilian discourse this produces a dual feeling: on one hand the “American patient” looks resilient, on the other — the slowdown and persistent price pressure push the White House toward a more aggressive trade and industrial policy, which threatens new blows to developing countries’ exports.

In China the same figures are seen as a factor of internal US instability ahead of the 2026 midterm elections. In Chinese financial media and think‑tank analyses the primary concern is not so much the macro figures themselves but how they affect American voters’ mood. A detailed review on Sina Finance, prepared by the research team of “China Galactica Macroeconomics,” notes that according to YouGov, Americans are most worried about inflation, the economy and jobs, civil rights, healthcare and migration; inflation and the economy are named key issues by 23% and 15% of respondents respectively, and among youth under 30 these shares are even higher. (finance.sina.cn)

The Chinese conclusion here is strictly pragmatic: the stronger the cost‑of‑living pressure inside the US, the more likely the Trump administration is to continue using external trade instruments — from tariffs to sanctions — as a way to demonstrate “toughness” and redirect domestic dissatisfaction toward an external enemy. In this sense, for both Beijing and Berlin, the American domestic agenda becomes no less important than Washington’s formal declarations of commitment to free trade.

Viewed more broadly, in Germany, China and Brazil the discussion of America today passes through the prism of seeing it as a less reliable partner and a more self‑centered actor. At the Munich Security Conference 2026, according to German media assessments, it became clear: even friendly statements by the US delegation led by Marco Rubio do not hide the fact that Washington is willing to cooperate only on its own terms and with priority given to its migration and defense interests. The review of key lessons from the conference in Die Welt highlights five points: transatlantic relations are strained but not broken; Europe seeks greater autonomy; the path to that autonomy is extremely difficult; the Ukraine issue has noticeably receded; and the Trump administration is open to a “new world order,” but not based on previous rules — rather in a format of a “hierarchical” system dominated by the US. (welt.de)

That is why in German discourse the theme of European strategic autonomy increasingly appears — from ideas of a pan‑European nuclear deterrent to deepening cooperation within the FCAS air combat system. But each such project is accompanied by a long list of technical, financial and political obstacles. In comments under articles about Munich one can easily notice skepticism: many Germans understand that Europe is not yet ready to live in a world where the American “umbrella” disappears, but are increasingly unsure that the umbrella will open automatically in a crisis.

In Brazil the theme of “independence from the US” has a long‑standing anti‑colonial tone. Lula, speaking about Venezuela and plans to meet with Trump in Washington to discuss tariffs, tries to strike a delicate tone: to show respect for neighbors’ sovereignty while also maintaining a channel of dialogue with the continent’s economic giant. In an interview cited by the European press he promotes the idea of settlements in national currencies between India and Brazil and distances himself from the notion of a single BRICS currency, to emphasize that for him multipolarity is above all diversification of ties, not merely replacing one hegemon with another. (elpais.com)

Chinese commentators in turn use these debates in Brazil and Europe as confirmation of their long‑standing thesis of a “structural crisis of Western leadership.” In their view the American system remains enormously powerful — financially, militarily, technologically — but politically it increasingly emits chaotic signals: from radical shifts in course with each administration change to unilateral actions like the Venezuelan operation or global tariffs. For Beijing this is both a risk and a window of opportunity: on one hand China’s export and financial dependence on Washington’s behavior remains huge; on the other — amid third countries’ fatigue with “American swings,” Chinese diplomacy hopes to advance as a more predictable alternative.

Finally, in China special attention is paid to the political cycle inside the US itself. An article by invited expert Sun Hong, published on the Peking University platform, treats the November 3, 2026 midterm elections as a potential turning point for Trump’s second term. The author analyzes the history of American midterms from 1986 to 2022 and reminds readers that in 20 of 22 cases the incumbent president’s party lost seats in the House; in 2018 Trump already suffered such a defeat. Now, with an approval rating around 44% and an electorate highly sensitive to the economy and inflation, the election outcome could again radically change the balance of power in Congress and, therefore, the range of the White House’s foreign‑policy maneuvers. (igcu.pku.edu.cn)

For Chinese readers this is not mere academic interest. The less room for maneuver domestically, the greater the temptation to compensate with external confrontation. Hence the attention to every US move regarding Taiwan, the South China Sea or technology — and to how those moves relate to the demands of the American domestic campaign to “be tougher on China.”

Taken together, all these storylines — Venezuela, tariffs, Munich, the American economy and elections — form a multilayered but fairly coherent international portrait of the US at the start of 2026. In Brazil and more broadly in Latin America Washington is seen as an inevitable but increasingly problematic neighbor whose readiness to rewrite the rules in the region by force provokes both outrage and pragmatic calculation. In Germany and Europe it is seen as an ally with whom ties must be maintained, but who can no longer be taken as the guarantor of the accustomed order “by default.” In China it is viewed as the main external risk factor and at the same time the main reference point around which China builds its own strategy of ascent.

The common thread between all these perspectives is the understanding that the US remains the central node of the world system, but the idea of unilateral American leadership increasingly meets not only resistance but also complex, ambiguous attempts to adapt. In that sense the current wave of criticism of Washington over Venezuela, tariffs and unilateralism is not so much a rejection of America as a demand that it decide: does it want to be a predictable architect of the global order, or will it remain a power that acts according to the principle “E daí?” — “so what?” — even when whole regions’ fates are at stake?

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"An American World": How Israel, Ukraine and South Africa Argue Over the US's New Role

Several threads of an America‑centred agenda have flared up simultaneously in different parts of the world — from Geneva and the Donbas to Jerusalem and Pretoria. At the centre: the Trump administration’s attempt to push through a “big deal” on Ukraine by summer 2026, a growing mismatch of expectations between Kyiv and Washington, the tense US–Israel–Iran triangle, and US trade wars with South Africa that South African authors already describe as undermining the very foundations of the rule‑based global trading order. In each of the three countries — Israel, Ukraine and South Africa — the United States is viewed from a very specific local reality, and it is precisely these perspectives that today shape an image of “America” scarcely visible within America itself.

The main theme linking Kyiv, Jerusalem and Pretoria is the sense that the US is becoming an increasingly transactional, starkly self‑interested player. In Ukraine this shows up as pressure to make territorial concessions in exchange for a quick “victory” for Trump; in Israel — as hard bargaining over Iran and growing fear that the traditional US consensus in support of Israel is eroding; and in South Africa — as tariff blows to key economic sectors and the threat of turning trade into an instrument of political coercion.

The loudest storyline in recent days is a new phase of the three‑way Ukraine–Russia–US talks. The Geneva round, which lasted only a couple of hours, produced cautious optimism on the military track and a much heavier feeling on the political one. After the meeting Vladimir Zelensky emphasized that “progress” had been made on the military front and singled out an agreement on the US role in monitoring a potential ceasefire: according to him, the American side will take part in control mechanisms, which in Kyiv is presented as an important “constructive signal” and a guarantee against another fake “truce” (ru.euronews.com). But Zelensky’s next interview with international media was a cold shower: the Ukrainian president publicly acknowledged that both Moscow and Washington are demanding Kyiv withdraw its forces from the Donbas if Ukraine wants an immediate end to the war. “Both the Americans and the Russians say: if you want the war to end tomorrow, get out of the Donbas,” AFP quotes him as saying, cited by Lenta.ru and other outlets (lenta.ru).

In Ukrainian discourse this demand has become a symbol of a new type of American policy. Popular Ukrainian media such as TSN discuss a “US deadline” to end the war by summer 2026 — a date tied less to military logic than to Trump’s domestic politics and his desire to present voters with a “deal of the century” (tsn.ua). At the same time, Ukrainian news resources cite Zelensky’s statement that Kyiv’s and Washington’s positions “do not coincide on some issues of a peace agreement,” even though both sides formally seek a swift end to the war (donpress.com). Behind the dry wording lies a powerful wave of debate inside Ukraine: where is the line of acceptable concessions if the main ally is “pushing” for territorial withdrawal in exchange for a ceasefire that many experts call a risk of a “treacherous truce”?

Against this backdrop European scepticism about the US’s ability to secure a durable peace is growing. German‑ and Russian‑language European press cite heads of five European intelligence services who, in a Reuters leak, said they do not believe the conflict will end in 2026: in their assessment, Moscow uses talks involving the US as a tool to ease sanctions and conclude favourable deals, not as an honest roadmap to peace (amp.dw.com). One Reuters source calls the current diplomatic architecture plainly a “negotiation theatre” — a phrase instantly taken up in Ukraine, where the recent memory of the Minsk agreements is still alive.

Within Ukraine there is also a debate that the American role in the war is evolving from unconditional support toward an attempt at “managed de‑escalation.” A US Congressional report cited by post‑Soviet media notes a sharp decline in US aid to Kyiv after the peak years of the war: around $188 billion was approved since the full‑scale invasion began, but in recent months the flow has noticeably dwindled (sputnik.by). Against this backdrop, influential American realist John Mearsheimer’s remark that Ukraine “may not survive 2026” is widely quoted in Ukrainian and Russian press no longer as a marginal view but as a symptom of Western fatigue and a harbinger of a “hard bargain” over Ukrainian sovereignty (gazeta.ru).

For many Ukrainian commentators Washington’s current line is both an opportunity to stop the bloodshed and a danger of consolidating “grey zones” and effectively rewarding aggression. Hence the specific attitude toward the US: without it there would have been neither the military resistance nor the current negotiating format, but it is precisely the American push for a quick deal that today is seen as the main source of pressure on Kyiv.

In Israel the US remains the primary security pillar, but the discussion about Washington has become much more anxious and ambivalent. On the surface are familiar storylines: US–Israeli consultations on Iran, Trump’s deadlines for a nuclear deal, and sharp exchanges with Tehran. Israeli media, including Russian‑language outlets, recount reports from Channel 12 that Benjamin Netanyahu’s cabinet presented Trump’s special envoy Stephen Witkoff with a package of demands for upcoming US‑Iran talks: from strict limits on uranium enrichment to clear “red lines” on the presence of pro‑Iran forces near Israel’s borders (icma.az). Simultaneously, Iranian statements say explicitly that in case of aggression by Israel or the US, targets belonging to both countries in the Middle East would become “legitimate targets” for Tehran (fedpress.ru), and this rhetoric amplifies the feeling in Israel that the American track on Iran could either secure the country or push the region toward a major war.

Beneath the current news layer, however, a deeper strategic debate is brewing over the very character of US–Israeli relations. Analytical reports from centres like the Institute for National Security Studies (INSS) speak directly of an “unprecedented crisis of Israel’s status in the US”: traditional support, they say, is falling sharply among Democrats and noticeably declining even among some Republicans, especially younger voters (inss.org.il). The authors link this not only to the humanitarian catastrophe in Gaza and Netanyahu’s hardline military stance, but also to the fact that Israel’s right wing is increasingly borrowing the American “Trumpist” model — from distrust of the courts to suspicions of liberal elites. On Ynet and in academic publications the “Americanization of the Israeli right” is discussed, where the US is simultaneously a source of inspiration and a mirror in which Israel sees its own internal conflicts (ynet.co.il).

This produces a paradoxical duality in perceptions of America. On one hand, Israel depends on the US for military and diplomatic support more than ever: Washington remains the key supplier of high‑tech weaponry, a guarantor in international forums, and the main audience for Israeli public diplomacy. On the other — the more unpredictable and polarized American politics appears, the more fragile that foundation seems. What ten years ago seemed an immutable “bipartisan consensus” in favour of Israel is now described in Israeli analyses as a resource that could be lost within one or two electoral cycles if Jerusalem does not revise its line in Gaza and on the Palestinian track more broadly (inss.org.il).

Against this background Donald Trump’s return to the White House is received in Israel with noticeably less enthusiasm than in his first term. If back then Trump was seen as an unconditional ally who “did the unpleasant work for Israel” — from recognising Jerusalem as the capital to withdrawing from the Iran nuclear deal — today experts are more cautious. It’s not only that the current Trump presents the US as an “autocratic revisionist hegemon,” in the words of a recent Hebrew analysis (debugliesintel.com), but that his team is building an architecture of “hierarchical alliances” where even close partners receive security guarantees in exchange for clear economic and political concessions. For Israel, accustomed to near‑unconditional military assistance, this is a worrying signal: in Jerusalem people increasingly ask what Washington might demand “in return” to maintain the current level of support.

South Africa views America through a very different but no less contentious lens — a lens of tariffs, sanctions, and the fate of the African Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA). Here the US’s evolution from architect of a “rules‑based” global order to a great power acting on the principle of force has become most tangible.

In August 2025 the Trump administration imposed 30 percent tariffs on most South African goods, which the South African government estimates put up to 30,000 jobs at risk, primarily in the auto industry and agriculture (apnews.com). South African writers in Mail & Guardian and other outlets called these measures a direct violation of basic WTO provisions and the principle of non‑discrimination: opinion columns stress that the US — one of the architects of the current trading regime — is now destroying it by imposing “reciprocal” tariffs not agreed with partners (mg.co.za).

Even more strongly felt in South Africa is the link between economy and politics. The tariff strike and the suspension of much American aid in 2025, reported by Western and South African media, are explained in Washington as “combating racial discrimination against white Afrikaners” and displeasure with land reform, as well as Pretoria’s position on Israel and its activism within BRICS (ft.com). South African commentators see this as an attempt to export a specifically American view on race and property into South Africa’s domestic discourse, and to punish the country for an overly independent foreign policy — from international cases against Israel to refusal to join an anti‑China axis.

The AGOA renewal saga became a symbol of this ambiguity. On one hand, the South African press notes that the US House’s passage of a law extending AGOA is an important step that formally renews duty‑free access for African goods and confirms Washington’s continued interest in an economic presence on the continent (businessday.co.za). On the other — analysts like Saul Levin point out that the extension does not cancel Trump’s unilateral tariffs and could at any moment be “overridden” by a new executive order, making the regime effectively discretionary rather than legal (businessday.co.za). In response, South African business associations and economists are increasingly calling for a faster pivot toward Europe, China and other Global South markets — not to “replace” America but to hedge against US unpredictability (g20.mg.co.za).

Still, Pretoria’s official rhetoric also contains a motive of forced interdependence. Trade Minister Parks Tau recently stressed that South Africa does not intend to retaliate with mirror tariffs and does not seek to “decouple” from the US: in his view both countries remain important partners and negotiation is the best tool to resolve disputes (thedtic.gov.za). The parliamentary trade committee chair Sonja Boshoff in 2024 spoke of the “unbreakability” of trade ties with the US despite Trump’s sharp tweets about BRICS (parliament.gov.za). Within South African society this is perceived as pragmatic realism: the country is too integrated into the American market and the dollar financial system to allow a demonstrative break, yet it has been burned by the new tariffs and can no longer view the United States as an unquestioned “anchor of predictability” in the global economy.

Notably, even positive news from the US is viewed in South Africa through a lens of distrust. A US Supreme Court decision that some analysts say opens new possibilities to challenge protectionist measures and may ease African access to the American market is described by commentators as an “important legal signal,” but they immediately recall that South Africa already faced tariffs that cost 0.4 percent of GDP growth and tens of thousands of jobs (fatshimetrie.org). South African authors’ conclusion is simple: even strong legal tools guarantee little if key decisions across the ocean are made according to domestic political battles and media effects.

The unifying thread of these varied, sometimes contradictory reactions is the perception of the US as a state whose foreign policy is ever more tightly woven into domestic electoral cycles, culture wars and economic populism. In Ukraine this appears as fear that “Trump deadlines” on peace will trump the country’s real security; in Israel — as anxiety that US polarization will shatter once‑monolithic support for the Jewish state and turn it into an object of partisan dispute; in South Africa — as conviction that Washington’s trade and sanctions policy increasingly reflects the ideology of a particular administration rather than long‑term rules of the game.

And yet in all three cases the reaction to the US remains deeply ambivalent. Kyiv recognises that without American military and financial support there would be neither the current defensive lines nor the possibility to negotiate on something like equal terms. Israel admits that even amid a “crisis of image” in the US there remains a single country capable of truly guaranteeing its military edge and offering political cover in case of escalation with Iran. South Africa, despite harsh criticism of tariffs and sanctions, does not see a break with the US as possible or desirable, but seeks to integrate Washington into a broader, multipolar set of partnerships.

From this aggregate of local debates emerges an image much more complex than the one in America’s self‑assessment. For Ukraine, Israel and South Africa the US is no longer simply a “hegemonic guarantor of order” or merely “one of the poles,” but a powerful, unpredictable actor whose decisions must simultaneously be courted, constrained and insured against. And it is precisely this threefold stance — dependence, distrust, and necessity — that sets the tone of conversations about America outside America today.

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How the World Sees America Today: Iran Crisis, the "AI Army" and Fatigue

In mid‑February 2026 the United States once again found itself at the center of global attention — but not as a confident “world sheriff,” rather as a source of tension, hope and growing skepticism at the same time. In Australia, Germany and Israel people are essentially discussing the same issues: a renewed U.S.–Iran confrontation and the possibility of a strike on Tehran, Washington’s role in the security architecture of the Middle East and Europe, and how America is reshaping its military for the age of artificial intelligence. Against this backdrop a louder question emerges: can the world still rely on American leadership — and should it?

The central axis of almost all current debates is the escalation of the U.S.–Iran crisis. In Israel the tone is set not by abstract analysts but by people directly involved in a potential conflict. Israeli media extensively quote Republican Senator Lindsey Graham, who during a visit to Jerusalem effectively confirmed that Washington and Tel Aviv are working through a joint strike on the Iranian regime. Graham explained that U.S. ships in the region are there “not because of the weather,” implying that the current force buildup in the Persian Gulf is part of a coordinated plan, not just a show of the flag, as the portal Walla! writes in a piece about his statements. In Israeli discourse the topic is presented not as one among many but as a question of survival: they discuss options for a combined attack by the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps on multiple fronts and how far Washington is willing to go for “regime change” in Tehran. News roundups such as the “election diary” in The Times of Israel stress that Donald Trump, weighing “limited strikes,” is looking for a way to force Iran to sign a deal without provoking a full‑scale response.

In Germany the same events are viewed through a completely different prism — as a dangerous game with fire that could get out of control. The German press panorama Deutschlandfunk, summarizing comments from leading newspapers, describes the situation as a “poker” match between Trump and Ayatollah Khamenei, where one wrong move or a “stray shell” could lead to catastrophe. Stuttgarter Zeitung emphasizes that by assembling a large U.S. formation near Iran, Washington has not only increased pressure on Tehran but also boxed itself in — making it hard to withdraw without losing face. Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung concedes that Iran is not as vulnerable as Venezuela but reminds readers that prolonged military campaigns have never been Trump’s strong suit, so his real options are limited, and that “a few commandos and cruise missiles” cannot eliminate the Iranian threat to Israel and the region. Such skepticism is strengthened by parallel Deutschlandfunk reports that only indirect U.S.–Iran talks are taking place in Geneva mediated by Oman, and that their second round again ended without a breakthrough, while the “threatening décor” — increased military presence and mutual statements — is only growing, as Deutsche Welle describes the conclusion of another Geneva round.

It is particularly telling that the German debate is not limited to the question of “war or peace.” The discussion touches a fundamental question: to what extent can Europe rely on American guarantees at all. In Deutschlandfunk’s news feed the position of influential Social Democratic politician Rolf Mützenich is voiced directly: “there has never been an absolute U.S. guarantee for the nuclear protection of European cities.” Commentators pick up these words as a symptom of a broader shift — after years of Washington wavering between “America First” and vows to defend allies, Berlin is increasingly unsure that, in a critical moment, the American nuclear umbrella will actually open. As a result, the discussion of the Iran crisis quickly spills over into a wider conversation about the need for a European nuclear foothold and alternatives to American leadership.

Against this backdrop German economic and financial outlets, including bank research notes such as those from Lombard Odier, parse not only geopolitics but market consequences. They note that tension with Iran has pushed Brent crude to a four‑month high — around $69 a barrel — but the overall backdrop remains moderately disinflationary, thanks to OPEC+ reserves and a general supply surplus. Economists cautiously reassure investors: this latest round of the U.S.–Iran crisis has not yet broken the global energy balance. However, they warn that further escalation or a strike on Iranian infrastructure could shift the market toward a sharp spike in prices — and then European households would quickly feel the cost of America’s regime‑change strategy in Tehran.

In Australia interest in the Iran direction is less emotional than in Israel and less alarmed than in Germany, but commentators there also closely watch the movements of U.S. carrier groups and the fate of the Geneva talks. For Canberra the crisis is first and foremost a test of Washington’s predictability. Former senior Pentagon official Ely Ratner, speaking at the Lowy Institute, urged Australia not to “punish America” by turning to China out of irritation at Trump’s inconsistent policies, stressing that however the Iran crisis develops, alliance projects such as AUKUS and agreements on U.S. force posture in Australia are too fragile and hard to rebuild to risk over tactical displeasure. The Australian writes about his remarks. The Iran theme in the Australian press therefore often sits alongside the question: if Washington is willing to make abrupt turns in the Middle East, could it equally suddenly change course in the Indo‑Pacific?

Another major cluster of discussion concerns how the U.S. is rethinking its military power in the era of artificial intelligence — and how this is perceived abroad. In Israel, where military technologies and the topic of AI traditionally receive intense public attention, an analysis of a Pentagon strategic document on preparing for war in the AI era caused a big stir. In a piece by futurist Roy Tzazana for the publication הידען – Hayadan, the new manifesto of the “U.S. secretary of war” is examined in detail: it calls for putting the army into a “wartime” mode during peacetime and for unprecedentedly rapid deployment of agent‑based AI and autonomous systems into critical battlefield functions. The author admits that after reading many American military doctrines he was “shocked” by the scale of radicalism: the document, he says, essentially calls to “recreate Ender’s Game in reality,” handing key decisions to systems whose logic remains opaque to humans.

This Israeli perspective is notable for its ambivalence. On one hand, in Israel — where American technological superiority is traditionally highly valued — the new doctrine is seen as an opportunity to strengthen the strategic partnership: joint development of AI air‑defense systems, data and algorithm sharing, and integration of Israeli startups into the U.S. defense industrial base. On the other hand, serious concern is voiced: if the Pentagon actually begins shifting some decisions on the use of force to autonomous platforms, who will bear political and moral responsibility for an AI error, especially in the densely populated areas of the Middle East? Tzazana warns directly that such automation can radically lower the “cost” of intervention for Washington and therefore make the use of force more frequent and less restrained than in the classical era.

In Germany similar questions are discussed more abstractly but no less acutely — as part of a broad European debate about the “securitization” of artificial intelligence. Academic works such as the arXiv study by Ruiyi Guo and Bodong Zhang on how the U.S., EU and China differently construct the object of AI regulation are actively cited in German media and expert blogs. The idea that Washington perceives AI primarily as an “optimizable system” subordinated to market logic and efficiency contrasts with the European view of AI as a product subject to certification and strict legal control. In this light the new American military strategy, which seeks to deploy AI as quickly as possible without lengthy legal hurdles, provokes concern among many German commentators: Europe again faces the choice of either adapting to American safety and ethics standards or building its own, which would increase the risk of a technological split with its NATO ally.

Australia’s discussion of the U.S. and AI is even more tied to national security and the economy. In analyses of AUKUS and defense procurement the recurring view is that if Washington places AI weapons in the category of “decisive technologies” and ties them ever more closely to alliance systems, Australia will be forced to speed up its own investments in military AI, otherwise its role in the partnership risks being reduced to a provider of bases and a testing ground. At the same time cybersecurity and civil‑liberties experts warn that importing the “American” style of AI militarization without built‑in European or Australian legal safeguards could undermine public trust in government, especially if algorithms for surveillance and predictive analysis are used domestically.

A third important theme shared by Australia, Germany and Israel is fatigue with the unpredictability of American leadership and attempts to adapt to it without breaking alliances. In Australia this motif is expressed most openly. Polling data published by ABC News based on the Vote Compass project already recorded a drop in trust in the U.S. as a responsible power to 36 percent after Trump’s return to the White House in 2025. A majority favored Australia being “less close” to Washington, though support for increasing military spending remained high. This ambivalent attitude — “we strengthen the military but don’t trust the ally” — has become the backdrop for current debates about a new flare‑up in trade wars and the possible repetition of tariff escalations that previously hit Australian exports during Trump’s earlier term, as business outlets like IG Australia remind readers when analyzing the risks of an “America First” protectionist agenda for the continent’s commodity‑based economy.

From here comes interest in the American practice of including food security in the national defense agenda. Influential newspaper The Australian publishes pieces drawing direct parallels: if the U.S., through joint initiatives of defense and agriculture departments, treats food as a strategic resource and an element of national security, then Australia — according to agricultural policy expert Andrew Henderson — needs to build a similar linkage between the defense ministry and the agricultural sector. He warns that dependence on global supply chains for fuel, fertilizers and agrochemicals makes the country vulnerable in the event of major conflicts or blocked sea lanes — the same Strait of Hormuz or Malacca Strait that feature in news about the U.S.–Iran confrontation. Australian analysts thereby acknowledge that the fate of a distant crisis where Washington and Tehran measure each other’s strength has a direct bearing on whether the country could feed itself in a shock without external supplies via sea routes controlled by the U.S.

In Germany this sort of “America fatigue” takes more politicized forms. At the margins of the Munich Security Conference mass demonstrations in support of freedom in Iran took place, where the son of the deposed Shah Reza Pahlavi appeared alongside the same U.S. Senator Lindsey Graham. The German press, including Tageblatt.lu and the dpa agency, notes the symbolism: hundreds of thousands march for the rights of Iranians, but Western politicians’ speeches constantly include calculations about containing Russia and questions of Europe’s energy security. Some commentators point to the “multilayered” American agenda: under slogans of democracy and human rights the U.S. simultaneously plays a complex game to preserve its influence over energy markets and forces Europe to bind its fate ever more tightly to Washington’s decisions — from sanctions regimes to LNG supply routes.

The Israeli conversation about U.S. reliability is colored by much more pragmatic tones. On one hand, no one doubts that under President Trump Washington remains Israel’s principal military, political and diplomatic ally. U.S. carriers off Iran’s coast, joint planning for a possible strike on Tehran, a new format for a “Gaza Peace Council” that Trump presented at the Davos forum and within which the general secretary of the Communist Party of Vietnam, To Lam, is expected to arrive in the U.S. in the coming days — all this is seen in Israel as evidence that the White House wants to anchor itself as the central arbiter in the Middle East. Israeli analysts note that by expanding this council from a Gaza ceasefire monitoring tool into a global platform for conflict resolution, Trump is attempting to offer an alternative to the UN and thereby tie regional states — from Arab monarchies to Vietnam, which in Israeli publications is cited as an example of a country balancing between the U.S. and China — more closely to himself.

On the other hand, Israeli commentators do not ignore the risk that such personalized diplomacy — when the fate of negotiations on Iran, Gaza or Ukraine depends on the mood of a single American leader and a small circle of trusted people like Jared Kushner or businessman Steve Witkoff, who are involved in the Geneva talks — makes the whole system more fragile. Unlike in Europe, where debates about alternatives to American leadership are primarily normative, in Israel a more down‑to‑earth question is asked: what will happen if the White House changes course in the midst of a crisis for whatever reason? Therefore even the staunchest proponents of closer ties with Washington simultaneously discuss the need to build up autonomous capabilities — from missile defense to cyber defense and AI innovations — that could compensate for any future wavering by the ally.

In all three countries there are also original, sometimes unexpected angles on America. In Australia this includes transferring the American logic of “national security through food” to a continent with abundant food but dependent on imported inputs. In Germany the U.S.–Iran crisis is used as an argument in the debate over European nuclear armament: if there is no “absolute” U.S. guarantee, should Europe build its own “nuclear shield” or instead strengthen diplomatic instruments where Washington is merely one mediator among others, not the sole guarantor. In Israel there is the paradoxical mix of enthusiasm about American technological breakthroughs in AI and extreme wariness about the idea of a real‑world “Ender’s Game,” where combat decisions are made not by a general in a bunker but by an algorithm in a data center.

If one attempts to distill this variety of reactions into a few key lines, the resulting picture is as follows. First, the current American course toward Iran is perceived as a symptom of a broader style — abrupt, personalized, reliant on military power and constantly walking the line between showing force and actual war. Second, the accelerated integration of artificial intelligence into the U.S. military elicits both admiration and fear: allies want to share the fruits of technological advantage but worry about becoming hostage to decisions made with a “efficiency first, regulation later” logic. And finally, third, the idea of the U.S. as an unconditional and predictable leader of the free world is receding. Australia, Germany and Israel — each in its own way — are learning to live in a world where America must be taken into account but where planning must also assume that its course may once again change tomorrow — be it in the Strait of Hormuz, the negotiating rooms of Geneva or the Pentagon’s server rooms where new “digital generals” of the AI era are being trained.

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How America Became the Center of Global Disputes Again

Today's conversations about America outside the West are surprisingly heterogeneous, but they have one thing in common: the United States is everywhere seen not as an abstract "global democracy," but as a very concrete, often blunt player whose decisions directly affect the security, finances, and politics of other countries. Three recurring themes run through the Russian, South African, and Brazilian discussions: the new American intervention in Venezuela and the question of the US right to use force in the region; Washington's economic and debt policies, on which currencies and budgets around the world depend; and a broader feeling—especially in Brazil and Russia—that an era of forced "reconciliation" with America is beginning: countries clash with it, bargain with it, but no one expects it to disappear.

The loudest and most emotional story of recent weeks is the American operation in Venezuela on 3 January 2026, which ended with the capture of Nicolás Maduro. In the Brazilian press this topic is presented primarily as a challenge to regional sovereignty and a test of South America's real autonomy from Washington. The outlet Poder360 emphasizes that US Secretary of State Marco Rubio publicly brushed off international criticism: when asked about the negative reaction from many capitals, he said, "muitos países não gostaram do que fizemos na Venezuela… e daí?" — "many countries did not like what we did in Venezuela… so what?" — insisting that the operation was carried out in the "national interests" of the United States and would not hinder cooperation with allies. This position, described in the Poder360 piece, is perceived in Brazil as demonstrative disregard for regional opinion: Washington does not even try to frame its actions within collective decisions of the Organization of American States or the UN, it simply presents neighbors of Venezuela with a fait accompli. A familiar motif runs through Brazilian commentary: American rhetoric about human rights and democracy is again combined with unilateral forceful intervention—and a considerable number of commentators see in this a return to a 21st‑century "Monroe Doctrine" logic, where South America is not an actor but an operational zone.

Interestingly, part of the Brazilian establishment reacts not only with outrage but also with pragmatism: "we condemn the method, but we must take into account that American military and financial power still sets the terms of the game." Against the backdrop of the upcoming visit of Luis Inácio Lula da Silva to Washington in March, which was covered, for example, on the portal 180graus, Brazilian analysts are forecasting how strongly Brazil will risk expressing disagreement with the Venezuelan operation. The official trip to the White House is presented in the local press as part of a "reprogramming" of relations after the severe tariff crisis of 2025, when the US administration imposed up to 50% tariffs on all Brazilian goods under the pretext of protecting its industry and political claims about a "witch hunt" against Bolsonaro, and Brazil responded with countermeasures and a complaint to the WTO; the course of that escalation is systematized, for example, in an overview titled "Crise diplomática entre Brasil e Estados Unidos em 2025." In this context, Lula's current dialogue with Washington is seen as an attempt to turn the conflict into a deal: the easing of trade blows, discussions on strategic minerals and "green" industrial policy in exchange for a more predictable Brazilian line on regional security and sanctions.

The theme of American power, manifesting both as military and financial weaponry, leads to the second major motif of discussions—the state of the US economy and its global consequences. The Brazilian business press closely monitors how American fiscal and monetary policy is changing. Reuters on the Portuguese version of Investing.com reports that the IMF will publish on 25 February its first "Article IV" under the Trump administration—a detailed review of US economic policy, with assessments of deficits and the dollar exchange rate. Brazilian commentary around this news shows a dual attitude: on the one hand there is an acknowledgment that the dollar, despite episodes of weakening, remains the "anchor" of the global financial system through which much of trade, reserves, and credit flows; on the other hand, irritation is growing that any change in Washington instantaneously affects exchange rates, interest rates, and budgetary risks in São Paulo or Johannesburg, while the US itself allows debt levels above 100% of GDP, as a political piece in 180graus reminds readers, comparing American debt burdens with much more restrained figures in Brazil.

For Brazilian investors, economic America is simultaneously a threat and a benchmark. Morning market reviews, such as a Forbes Brasil "Pre‑market" column focusing on US unemployment data and Walmart reports, emphasize how local exchange rates and indices depend on expectations about the Fed's rate path and the resilience of the American consumer. In the same text, figures on Brazil's economic activity index sit alongside expectations for the Philadelphia Fed index, and the conclusion is simple: if the US continues to experience "solid expansion" with a stable labor market, Brazil will have to take that into account when calibrating its own policy—from the real exchange rate to maneuvers with the Selic rate. Thus, America is simultaneously condemned for the intervention in Caracas and closely studied as the main macroeconomic beacon.

In Russia the conversation about America takes a different register, but also runs through the prism of power and forced mutual recognition. In analytical pieces published by pro‑regime outlets such as the newspaper Vzglyad, a motif appears: "The US is again forced to respect Russia." In a column of the same name by Gevorg Mirzayan, it is argued that in 2025 the US—as the purported "core of the collective West"—was forced to adjust course and move to a more pragmatic, "respectful" attitude toward Moscow, partly even distancing itself from its European allies. According to the author, Washington, after long attempts at pressure through sanctions and "isolation," acknowledges that without dialogue with Russia it is impossible to regulate energy markets, peripheral wars, or the architecture of security. This narrative is aimed at a domestic audience, but its meaning is important: in the Russian public space the image of America is gradually shifting from an unequivocal "enemy" to a more complex figure of an "inevitable opponent," whose recognition by Washington Moscow tries to present as a major diplomatic victory.

There are also many threads in Russian‑language analysis around the American economy, but these often tie into global commodity chains and industrial policy. The portal Polpred, which aggregates economic news, in its metallurgy section describes how the American Nucor in 2026 raised spot prices for hot‑rolled sheet for the first time, and this is immediately interpreted as a signal of a possible turning point in the US price cycle. Such news is woven into a broader Russian discourse on deglobalization and the reshuffling of industrial chains: India's oil purchases from the US and Gulf states, European anti‑dumping investigations against Asian steel, deals by American funds in European metallurgy—all of this is presented in the Russian press as confirmation of the thesis that America, by changing the rules in its favor, forces others to constantly reconfigure.

Viewed from South Africa, where discussion of the US is less loud but still noticeable, two lines remain key: the perception of Washington as a political and trading partner that cannot be dismissed, and distrust of its claim to moral leadership. In the English‑language South African press, especially in business outlets, attention continues to focus on possible revisions to AGOA trade preferences and on how American monetary policy affects the rand exchange rate and borrowing costs. At every hint of a long period of high Fed rates, debates arise about whether South Africa's economy is too tied to the dollar and whether it is time to accelerate a pivot toward BRICS—that is, again, toward a world where the US remains the main opponent but not the sole source of capital and technology.

In foreign‑policy columns South African authors often draw parallels between American interventions in Latin America and operations in the Middle East and the region's own colonial experience. For some left‑wing commentators, the US operation in Venezuela—even though geographically distant—becomes a convenient example for criticizing the "hypocrisy" of Western rhetoric on sovereignty and human rights. They recall that Washington was one of the vocal critics of Israeli policy in words, but in practice continued military assistance, while applying rhetoric of "narcoterrorism" and special operations to "undesirable" regimes like Maduro's. This rhetoric largely echoes what is written in Brazil, but is colored by the experience of fighting apartheid and the role of the US in that history: in South African memory America is not just a superpower but a country that for a long time wavered on whether to support harsh sanctions against the apartheid regime.

All three countries—Russia, Brazil, and South Africa—thus see America as both a center of power and a source of instability. In the Russian narrative the most important thing is mutual recognition between Moscow and Washington as "forced partners" in a global game where the US ceases to be the absolute arbiter. In the Brazilian narrative the dominant theme is asymmetry: America can afford a tariff shock against the largest Latin American economy, a unilateral military operation in a neighboring country, and still remain a desirable negotiating partner to whom Lula flies to the White House hoping to bargain for trade and investment concessions. In the South African narrative financial and political dependence comes to the fore: every Fed sentence and every State Department move is viewed through the prism of how it will strengthen or weaken South Africa's already fragile economy and its ambitions within BRICS.

Against this backdrop, rhetoric from American officials such as Marco Rubio is particularly notable: in the quoted remark conveyed by Poder360 he is effectively telling the world, "Our interests matter more than your displeasure, and that won't stop you from continuing to cooperate with us." For many outside the West this is not news—but the blunt candor of such an approach gives old narratives a new cynicism. And if in Washington this reads as a demonstration of strength, then in Moscow, Brasília, and Pretoria it serves as an argument for accelerating the search for alternatives: closer coordination within BRICS, diversification of reserves, and strengthening regional blocs. America remains at the center of all negotiations, but increasingly—as an object of struggle for maneuvering space rather than as an uncontested leader.

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Under the "Tariff Umbrella" and Over Gaza: Brazil, South Africa and Australia vs Trump

At the beginning of 2026, discussions about the United States in other countries almost always boil down to the same name — Donald Trump. But the tone of those conversations in Brazil, South Africa and Australia differs noticeably. For some, Washington is an aggressive trading partner; for others, an unreliable climate donor and architect of an unjust world order; and for others still, a heavy but still indispensable pillar of global security and markets. The agenda centers on three major knots: the tariff war and its consequences, the sharp U.S. reversal on climate policy, and Trump’s ambitiously scandalous plan for Gaza.

The first layer is trade wars. In Brazil and South Africa the U.S. is viewed through the prism of how "America First" hits jobs and foreign-exchange accounts. Brazilian press notes a sixth consecutive monthly decline in exports to the United States: according to Amcham Brasil, in January 2026 shipments to the American market fell 25.5% year on year, while Brazil’s deficit in bilateral trade tripled to $700 million. In an interview with O Estado de S. Paulo, Amcham head Abraão Neto calls for a "diálogo econômico de alto nível" with Washington to lower tariffs and restore predictability to trade, directly linking current distortions to the U.S.’s tough protectionist policy. As the Brazilian business association notes in the same piece, the combination of falling Brazilian exports and persistently high U.S. duties "aprofundou o desequilíbrio" in trade between the countries, pushing some elites to talk about diversifying export destinations, above all to Asia and Europe. In the same clipping Brazilian economists compare weak external demand from the U.S. with U.S. labor market data, where, despite job gains at the start of the year, 2025 figures were sharply revised downward.

The political contours of this conflict in Brazil are even more acute: escalation of duties to 50% and linking them to the case against Jair Bolsonaro already led to a formal diplomatic "crise" in 2025, detailed in the Portuguese-language Wikipedia article on the crisis between the two countries, which records Brazil’s retaliatory measures through the WTO and a reciprocity tariff law. Just days ago the Infobae portal in Spanish, widely cited in Brazil, reported on a new note from Trump demanding that Lula stop "attacks" on Bolsonaro and threatening further tariffs — an example of how trade instruments in the region are perceived not as economic measures but as political pressure. Latin American analysts note that this personalization of U.S. foreign policy strengthens nationalist and at times anti-American sentiments among Lula’s voters. Eurasia Group expert Christopher Garman told UOL that Trump’s tariffs feed a wave of "sentimento anti-EUA" and in the short term benefit the left, but could backfire if economic damage to Brazil becomes too palpable by 2026. As Garman emphasizes in his UOL assessment, the nationalist upswing "has a shelf life," and the longer the tariff standoff continues, the higher the risk voters will blame domestic authorities.

South Africa views the same tariff policy as an undermining of a long-established architecture of privileged access to the American market. The official site of President Cyril Ramaphosa published his sharp statement about the "unilateral" 30% tariff the U.S. introduced on August 1, 2025. Ramaphosa stresses that Washington’s calculation is based on a "disputable" interpretation of the trade balance, and reminds readers that 77% of American goods enter South Africa at a 0% rate, making a 30% duty on South African exports clearly disproportionate. In the same statement he urges South African firms to accelerate market diversification to "increase the resilience" of the economy to external shocks, effectively preparing the public for an end to the special AGOA regime and preferential U.S. terms. Analysis by the Economic Research Southern Africa (ERSA) highlights that a move to a 30% level practically nullifies previous benefits: calculations show the weighted-average rate on South African exports to the U.S. jumping from 0.4% to 16.8%, with over 80% of product lines fully hit, and the potential non-renewal of AGOA would only worsen the situation. ERSA’s report explicitly states that under such conditions U.S. tariffs could shave several tenths of a percent off South Africa’s GDP growth in 2025–2026, threatening export-oriented sectors from autos to citrus.

Legal criticism sounds even harsher: a column by South African lawyer Mmiselo Kuma in Mail & Guardian titled "Trump’s tariffs are illegal under international trade law" argues this policy goes beyond the WTO and violates basic principles of most-favored-nation treatment and bound tariff commitments. The author points out that by introducing "reciprocal tariffs" without negotiations or compensation, the U.S. is effectively abandoning the regime it helped build and undermining the special and differential treatment for developing countries. Kuma believes Africa should speak louder about this violation, otherwise the breakdown of legal norms will become irreversible. This linking of economic arguments with legal and moral claims is a striking motif in the South African debate: it’s not just about money but about the erosion of the rule-based order South Africa has tried to integrate into since the end of apartheid.

Australia sounds more pragmatic and wryly nervous. Here the U.S. remains a key security ally and the direct impact of tariffs is limited: the federal Treasury, cited by Nine News, models only a "moderate" 0.2% GDP decline by the end of 2026 and a slight inflation uptick of about 0.2 percentage points. Treasurer Jim Chalmers told Nine News that "we expect a big hit to growth in the U.S. and China and a much more manageable one for Australia," but warned that escalating a global tariff war would harm Canberra too. Meanwhile the Productivity Commission in its annual review, covered by ABC News, makes a provocative conclusion: provided Australia does not retaliate with mirror tariffs and lowers its own nuisance tariffs, it could even gain slightly — in their model up to +0.37% in output in the long run due to the reorientation of global capital away from the U.S. Deputy Commission Chair Alex Robson told ABC that Australia’s growth could accelerate amid "capital outflow from the United States" if the country remains open. This cold economic view sparks debate: opponents insist political risks of such asymmetry cannot be ignored, but overall in Australia the U.S. is still seen more as a source of external uncertainty than an immediate threat.

The second major theme is climate policy and the U.S. retreat from international commitments. For South Africa this is not only ideological but also very concrete money. Pretoria was the first to sign with a group of developed countries the so-called Just Energy Transition Partnership (JETP), in which the United States was one of the key donors. So the South African foreign ministry’s March 2025 statement that Washington had withdrawn from the scheme provoked an outcry. Euronews Green and the Associated Press quote South African Foreign Ministry spokesperson Crispian Veary, who speaks of more than $1 billion in lost promised investments for the energy transition. At the same time the Trump administration almost simultaneously pulled out of the new international "loss and damage" fund intended to help countries already suffering from climate disasters, as the Washington Post reported, noting this fits a broader White House retreat from global climate finance. South African commentators see this as confirmation of a long-held suspicion: the U.S. uses climate justice rhetoric while it’s cheap, but when real money and resource redistribution are on the table, the "America First" logic kicks in.

Brazil’s public sphere goes further, portraying the American turn almost as a "hurricane of denial." In a Jornal da USP piece titled "Furacão negacionista" the author analyzes how the Trump administration began to scrub the concept of a "climate crisis" from official rhetoric: the Department of Energy and other agencies were advised to avoid terms like "crise climática," "energia limpa," and "poluição," and the EPA announced the "maior desregulamentação ambiental da história." The USP author warns this is not just a change of words: data-gathering structures and institutional memory are being dismantled, leaving future administrations less able to respond adequately to threats. The climate portal ClimaInfo follows a similar line, analyzing the ultra-conservative "Projeto 2025" on which Trump’s team relies. It emphasizes that the document consciously rejects the idea of a "climate emergency" and proposes ramping up fossil-fuel use and weakening environmental rules as engines of the American economy, even at the cost of undermining global decarbonization efforts.

In Brazil this overlaps with preparations for COP30 in Belém: a Spanish-language El País piece about the "Trump no nos representa" campaign aimed at an international audience discusses how American climate activists plan to travel to Brazil to show that "the U.S. is not monolithic" and that a powerful climate movement exists within American society. For Brazilian commentators, especially in academia, this nuance matters: criticism of official U.S. policy is increasingly accompanied by attempts to separate "the Trump state" from American civil society, so as not to break horizontal scientific and activist ties. Professor Glauco Arbix wrote for Rádio USP sketching a dual scenario: on one hand, a "high-risk experience" with Trump leading to deregulation and strengthened oligopolies in AI and technology; on the other, hope for international coordination to create a "global regulatory agency" for AI and climate.

The Australian climate debate is more restrained, but the throughline is the same — the U.S. is becoming a less reliable partner in the green transition. A United States Studies Centre analytical report on Australia’s economic security prospects for 2026 states the paradox: while the U.S. destabilizes global trade and climate finance, it retains technological leadership in areas like AI and quantum tech that are critical for future productivity. The authors conclude Canberra will need to further diversify economic ties without severing the strategic alliance with Washington, and that ignoring the climate role of the U.S. is dangerous not only for the environment but also for the alliance architecture in the Indo-Pacific.

The most emotionally charged area of discussion is U.S. Middle East policy and Trump’s plan for Gaza. His February 2025 statement that the U.S. should "take control" of the Strip, turn it into a "Riviera of the Middle East" and resettle two million Palestinians in a "beautiful place" outside Gaza was dissected in the Portuguese-language Wikipedia and provoked a storm of criticism. Deutsche Welle’s Portuguese service collected initial reactions: Hamas called the plan "racist" and a "recipe for creating chaos," refusing to allow mass displacement; Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas said he would not permit violations of "the rights of our people, for which we have fought for decades"; Germany, Saudi Arabia and China publicly rejected the idea of American occupation of Gaza. A later DW analysis titled "Países árabes podem impedir planos de Trump para Gaza?" explained to Brazilian readers that the plan, based on a document by American economist Joseph Peltzman, envisaged a factual "complete emptying" of the territory, with pressure on Egypt to accept the displaced under the pretext of debt obligations, and that this directly contradicted Arab countries’ plans to keep the population in place with a technocratic administration under the League of Arab States. This contrast is seen as emblematic of a wider problem: the U.S., even under the banner of "peace plans," acts primarily from a logic of strategic control and ignores the right to self-determination.

The South African perspective on Gaza is even sharper, though voiced primarily through the lens of international law rather than bilateral relations with the U.S. Against the backdrop of South Africa’s lawsuit against Israel at the International Court of Justice and Washington’s withdrawal from the climate agreement with Pretoria, the American Gaza initiative is seen here as part of a pattern: Washington as an "architect" of the postwar order that now undermines the norms it once promoted. South African lawyers and academics writing in the press and for global outlets draw parallels between "unilateral tariffs" and "unilateral occupation decisions," arguing that in both cases the U.S. ignores multilateral mechanisms. When the U.S. later brought a Security Council resolution proposing deployment of an international stabilization force in Gaza with a transit administration effectively led by Washington, as Le Monde reported, South African experts reacted with ambivalence: on one hand, they acknowledged the need to stop the fighting; on the other, they feared the plan would entrench an unequal status for Palestinians and push aside the two-state idea.

Australian commentary on Gaza is usually tied to domestic debates about the limits of supporting the U.S. and Israel. There are fewer outright harsh statements against the American plan than in the global South, but discomfort is growing: think tanks note Canberra’s difficulty in balancing alliance obligations with a society increasingly sensitive to humanitarian crises. Against the background of discussions at the Munich Security Conference — where Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez accused unconditional U.S. military aid to Israel of having "enabled genocide in Gaza" — Australian commentators increasingly write that the American political spectrum itself is fracturing over the war, which means allies can afford a more independent stance.

A unifying thread for Brazil, South Africa and Australia is growing distrust in U.S. predictability. Brazilian international law professor Pedro Dallari argued on Rádio USP that Washington’s decisions are increasingly the product of internal political shifts — from electoral coalition choices to the influence of ultra-conservative think tanks — rather than consistent strategy. For Brazil this means any bet on close alignment with the U.S. must be made with an eye to the risk of abrupt course changes. In South Africa this manifests as a simultaneous desire to keep trade and investment dialogue with America while deepening ties with other power centers, from the EU to China, to avoid dependence on "the White House’s whims." In Australia, where the military alliance with the U.S. remains a cornerstone, the priority is an "insurance" through closer work with regional partners and strengthening domestic economic resilience to external shocks, as seen in Productivity Commission and USSC recommendations.

But this skepticism also has an unexpected constructive effect. Criticism of American tariffs forces Brazil, South Africa and Australia to reassess their trade regimes and industrial policies, prompting debates about national industrial strategy, job protection and the state’s role in the energy transition. Outrage over the U.S. retreat from climate agreements raises questions about the responsibility of developing countries and middle powers: can they build regional climate funds and agreements that don’t depend on Washington’s will? And paradoxically, Trump’s Gaza plan intensifies discussion about Security Council reform — a reform actively promoted by Brazil and South Africa — with the argument that as long as the global West monopolizes the right to "peace-making," unilateral initiatives like these will recur.

In that sense, today’s reactions to the U.S. are not just a collection of complaints and anxieties, but a laboratory of a new multipolar policy. Brazilian, South African and Australian authors, each in their own context, converge on one point: the era in which Washington can play with tariffs, climate funds and the fates of whole peoples with impunity is coming to an end. Either the United States will find a way to fit into a more predictable and fair architecture, or the rest of the world will increasingly look for life "after America" — albeit so far in partial, contradictory, but increasingly bold steps.

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How the Global South Sees America: Trade, Geopolitics and Trust

Today the image of the United States in India, South Africa and Turkey is shaped not by a single loud scandal but by the intersection of several threads: the Trump administration’s tough trade agenda, pressure related to energy and Russia, selective rhetoric about “human rights,” and ongoing wars — from Gaza to Ukraine. In all three countries America is simultaneously a key partner and a primary source of irritation, and discussion of the U.S. in local media becomes a conversation about a broader question: what price does the Global South pay for “friendship” with Washington, and where is the line for acceptable pressure.

In India, the interim trade agreement with the U.S. has moved to the center of the debate. Its critics — from peasant unions to the opposition — call the deal “economic colonization,” arguing that lowering tariffs on American agricultural products undermines the country’s food sovereignty and leaves the Indian farmer alone against subsidized U.S. agribusiness. A Times of India piece on the mobilization of the Samyukt Kisan Morcha (SKM) bluntly expresses fear that imports from the U.S., taking advantage of India’s tariff cuts while American tariffs remain at around 18%, will devastate the incomes of 146 million farming households; SKM calls this “economic colonization” and demands the resignation of Commerce Minister Piyush Goyal, linking the agreement to a broader problem of the redistribution of powers and taxes from the states to the center. In this context the U.S. appears as a symbol of “imperialism” and dictates, while the domestic dispute in India is about how far the Modi government is yielding to those demands.

Opposition leader Rahul Gandhi, meeting with farmer union leaders, calls the U.S.-India trade framework “an attack on sovereignty and food security,” and the Communist Party of India (Marxist), quoted in Business Standard, says this is “submissive obedience to Trump’s diktat,” which threatens to destroy apple orchards in the Himalayas and push cotton growers into an even deeper crisis, since they will have to compete with the “plentiful subsidies of American farmers.” In the Indian Express, farmer organizations demand disclosure of the “fine print” of the deal, suspecting that Delhi agreed to tariff concessions across a range of agricultural goods, and activist Yogendra Yadav, in remarks relayed by OpIndia, speaks of a first attempt to “bring Indian agriculture into an international trade deal,” where some goods enter “through the front door” with zero duty, while maize and soy “sneak in through the back door” — via feed and processed products.

Pro-government politicians, meanwhile, construct a counter-narrative in which the U.S. is a necessary economic partner and criticism of the deal is “propaganda.” Agriculture Minister Shivraj Singh Chouhan told the Times of India there are no threats to farmers and that imports will be limited to “niche segments” where India is not self-sufficient; he called opposition accusations the demagoguery of “politicians moonlighting.” Maharashtra Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis goes further in another piece, saying the very idea of mass access for American agricultural products is “false propaganda,” which he blames for a fall in domestic soybean prices; he emphasizes that “agriculture has been deliberately excluded from the agreement.”

Against this background international analysts see the U.S.-India trade configuration as a continuation of Washington’s energy pressure. Moody’s, in a fresh commentary on the interim agreement, notes that it eases some tariff pressure on Indian exports but leaves open a key question: how far India is willing to go in reducing imports of Russian oil and in what volumes it commits to buying energy and other goods from the U.S. This emphasis effectively confirms a perception dominant in Indian and foreign commentary: Washington uses access to its market and tariffs as levers to reconfigure energy flows to its advantage and to weaken Delhi’s ties with Moscow.

At the same time, Indian analysis shows skepticism about how deeply the country is actually prepared to meet American demands. An RBC piece, drawing on assessments by international analysts, states that India is “unlikely to give up Russian oil for the American market,” but will most likely limit itself to diversifying supplies; Mukesh Aghi, CEO of the U.S.-India Strategic Partnership Forum, says India’s obligation is to reduce, not to stop, purchases of Russian oil, and that the timeline for this reduction is undefined. Such a tone indicates that in Indian and broader Eurasian debate the U.S. is perceived as a partner offering economic incentives while simultaneously demanding geopolitical loyalty, whereas Delhi seeks to turn these demands into flexible bargaining without destroying its relations with Moscow or sacrificing too much in agriculture.

Another Indian storyline related to the U.S. and widely discussed in the local press is the New York court case against Nihal Gupta, accused of conspiring to assassinate Sikh activist Gurpatwant Singh Pannun. Reports in The Guardian and Indian outlets describe Gupta’s guilty plea to three counts — from “contract killing” to money laundering — as a move that avoids a sensational public trial but does not remove questions for Delhi. As early as November 2023, Ministry of External Affairs spokesperson Arindam Bagchi, commenting on the U.S. indictment, stressed that such actions “contradict government policy” and are “cause for concern,” and spoke of setting up an Indian commission to review transnational links among organized crime and extremism. Now, with Gupta’s plea, the Indian debate again raises the issue: where do the acts of “individuals” end and state responsibility begin, and how do the U.S. use such cases as leverage in broader negotiations on security and intelligence cooperation?

In South Africa, the image of the U.S. passes through a very different filter — through the conflict over the country’s status among the “greats” and White House rhetoric about the condition of the white minority. In late November 2025 President Donald Trump, according to The Guardian, said South Africa “will not be invited” to the G20 summit in Miami in 2026, accusing Cyril Ramaphosa’s government of “killing white people” and “confiscating their farms,” while announcing the cessation of “all payments and subsidies” to Pretoria. South African press and experts greeted this as an example of Washington’s “punitive diplomacy.” On radio station 702, analyzed by EWN, Daily Maverick commentator Peter Fabricius noted that Trump is essentially asking other G20 members to “choose between the U.S. and South Africa,” calling it a risky attempt to use economic influence to politically isolate an entire country. He also stressed that the G20 has no clear procedures for expelling members and that such a step would require consensus support that Washington might not have.

Concurrently, economic analysis such as the review by European agency Scope Ratings depicts the U.S. not only as a political opponent but also as the second most important trading partner, capable with one decision of worsening or easing a long-standing employment crisis. Scope reminds readers that already existing 30-percent U.S. tariffs on a number of South African goods — along with the threat of ending the AGOA preferential program and freezing part of official aid — could hit key export sectors like the auto industry and agriculture, which employ large numbers of workers. In such discourse America becomes both a vital market and a source of instability: any tweet from Washington instantly turns into a risk factor for credit ratings and growth prospects.

Particular irritation in South African commentary is caused by the new American “migration humanitarianism” — the 2025 program to accept white South Africans as “refugees.” English- and Afrikaans-language media discuss how Washington, by declaring a “genocide” of Afrikaners and offering them asylum, amplifies far-right narratives of “white genocide” that independent studies have long debunked. Pretoria’s official position, reflected in several statements by Ramaphosa, is that the white minority is not subject to systematic persecution sufficient to warrant refugee status, and that the U.S. program distorts the complex picture of post-apartheid land reform. As a result, in South African debate the U.S. is seen as a country that on one hand punishes Pretoria for an independent foreign policy (from the ICJ case on Gaza to relations with Russia and China) and on the other hand interferes in domestic racial issues under the banner of human rights, relying on unreliable data.

Interestingly, Washington remains an economically indispensable partner at the same time. A recent business review on Algoa FM reports that Trump extended AGOA for another year, maintaining preferential access to the U.S. market for a number of African countries, including South Africa, although the 30-percent tariffs introduced a year earlier remain in place. Commentators stress the contrast: the U.S. simultaneously prolongs a “special partnership” regime and tightens punitive tariffs, demonstrating that access to the American market is not a right but an instrument of discipline.

In Turkey, discussion of the U.S. in recent months has been colored by protracted wars and the image of Washington as the chief conductor of a “unipolar” order. In a column by Mehmet Ali Güller in Cumhuriyet titled “The Price of ‘Friendship’ with the U.S.,” the author describes an episode in which Hamas leaders were invited to Doha for talks on Trump’s ceasefire proposal, after which Israeli strikes on Qatar, according to Güller, were facilitated by American interference in air defense systems. He calls this a “U.S.-Israel trap” and an illustration that Washington uses diplomacy not for peace but as a tactical tool for allies’ military operations.

This view is widely shared in the Turkish media space and extends to other conflicts — from Venezuela to Ukraine. In analytical bulletins such as Gedik Yatırım’s review, the U.S. appears as a source of “geopolitical uncertainty”: from threats of new tariffs against European countries that did not support the “Greenland plan” to unstable sanction regimes affecting energy prices and exchange rates. Economists emphasize that any new trade initiative from the White House is instantly transmitted into Turkey’s borrowing costs and import prices, from energy to food, making Ankara vulnerable to fluctuations in Washington even if Turkish leadership declares a course toward “strategic autonomy.”

Alongside this, the Turkish left and nationalist press use examples from India and South Africa to show that “American pressure” is not a unique Turkish experience but part of a broader strategy to reshape the Global South to U.S. interests. Commenting on the India–U.S. trade deal, Turkish authors point to Washington’s attempt to “tie” Delhi to itself with energy agreements and tariff concessions, while in the South African case they emphasize “punishment” for political disobedience and attempts to mobilize the subject of rights for the white minority. Together this fuels a popular thesis in Turkey that the U.S. does not recognize the real sovereignty of partners and essentially offers “a protectorate in exchange for market access and security.”

The common thread running through the Indian, South African and Turkish discussions about the U.S. is that America is both necessary and dangerous. In India, Washington is the key to access to the largest solvent market and an indispensable technological partner, but also a source of fear of “agrarian neocolonialism” and an energy diktat that could sever ties with Russia. In South Africa, the U.S. is the second most important trading partner and a major investor, but also, according to local analysts, a country ready to manipulate issues of human rights and refugees to punish a government for unfavorable foreign policy positions and even to try to push it out of the G20. In Turkey, America is a NATO ally and an important participant in the regional security architecture, yet it is perceived as the chief architect of unilateral sanctions, instability and conflicts from which Ankara must extricate itself.

Despite differences in the specific stories — from Indian strikes against a “colonial” trade deal to South African outrage over the threat of G20 exclusion — a similar conclusion emerges in the three countries: the U.S. remains a central force in the global economy and politics, but its methods — tariffs, sanctions, selective pressure under the banner of human rights — are increasingly viewed as a risk factor for the sovereignty and internal stability of Global South states. That is why in New Delhi, Pretoria and Ankara there is growing desire not so much to “break off” relations with Washington as to construct a more asymmetrical game with it, in which every concession by the U.S. on markets and security must be compensated by real guarantees of respect for local interests and multilateral rules.

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Trump, Tariffs and the Middle East: How Seoul, Beijing and Ankara Read the New America

In Asia and the Middle East today, the United States is talked about not as an abstract "hegemon" but as a very concrete reality — the second administration of Donald Trump, an aggressive tariff policy, and a sharp yet contradictory line in the Middle East. In Korea, China and Turkey, the agenda on the US is built around several overlapping narratives: trade wars and their impact on regional economies, a change in the American style of global leadership, a reworking of relations with China and Iran, and a new security architecture from Europe to Syria. Each of these narratives is read differently, but together they provide an interesting snapshot of how three very different countries are simultaneously adapting to "America Trump 2.0" and contesting it.

One of the main nerves of the discussion in all three countries is Washington's tariff and sanctions policy. Chinese economic and political analysts dissect it almost like an engineering blueprint. In Chinese business press and research centers they closely track the escalation of 2025–2026: from the White House decision to impose 25 percent tariffs on all imports from Mexico and Canada (with partial exceptions for Canadian oil) and an additional 10 percent increase in duties on Chinese goods above already existing rates up to 25 percent — to an overall shift toward what Beijing describes as "permanently weaponized trade." These measures in the PRC are seen not as a one-off spike but as the institutionalization of tariffs as a foreign policy tool, fitting into a broader Chinese analysis of a "policy of the sword" — a course in which Washington uses tariffs and export controls to manage global value chains and to exert pressure on competitors and partners simultaneously. Chinese economist Wen Bin reflects on this in an interview published on an analytical platform affiliated with financial institutions in China, describing Trump's course as a trajectory of "elections as an axis, tariff adjustments, emphasis on the domestic economy and mildly accommodative monetary‑fiscal policy" and directly calling tariffs a "double‑edged sword" that creates favorable conditions for some American actors while at the same time undermining trust in dollar assets worldwide. This view underscores Chinese concern that tariffs are becoming not a temporary lever but a permanent structural threat to export‑oriented economies in the region.

This concern is amplified by domestic Chinese debates about the consequences of US‑China tensions in science and technology. A recent study by a group of Chinese and Chinese‑American scholars on how the geopolitical split with the US changes the behavior of American researchers records that tensions sharply reduce funding opportunities for projects with Chinese partners, and many American scientists "pivot" — reorienting their research toward less sensitive topics or different partners. In China this is read as a signal: scientific and technological "decoupling" is no longer rhetoric but a new norm, asymmetrically affecting people of Chinese origin and the fields where collaboration was densest. Within Chinese expert circles this becomes an argument for accelerated technological autonomy and the creation of indigenous scientific ecosystems not dependent on American grants and journals, but also a warning: the rupture with the US changes the very structure of global science, not just flows of chips and equipment.

In Turkey the same tariff‑and‑sanctions toolkit of the US is perceived differently: not as a threat to the very existence of an export model, but as part of a larger question about the real nature of American leadership. Turkish commentators, especially on center‑left and Kemalist platforms, emphasize that Washington uses tariffs and financial levers alongside military and diplomatic pressure in regions critical to Ankara — from the Eastern Mediterranean to the Caucasus. In a programmatic piece in the Turkish newspaper Cumhuriyet, political commentator Mehmet Ali Güller describes American policy as "building an Iranian front" and views tariffs and economic measures as an auxiliary element of a broader strategy: constructing a bloc against Tehran that relies on normalization between Turkey and Israel, restructuring the configuration in Syria, and formalizing the so‑called "Trump corridor" through the Caucasus. In his logic, American economic and trade measures operate in tandem with diplomatic initiatives, pushing regional countries to participate in an architecture where the US remains the central coordinator, while local societies' interests and the Palestinian issue are pushed to the periphery.

Turkish writers directly link this to the debate about America's role as the "world's gendarme." In a detailed analysis of Trump's foreign policy "report card" for 2025, published by the Turkish service Anadolu Ajansı, author Hakan Çopur emphasizes that the White House simultaneously abandons classical liberal interventionism and maintains a very high level of intervention, but now in the format of "selective leadership": the US supposedly no longer supports the world order as a whole, but actively uses tariffs, investment restrictions and selective military operations to advance narrow national interests under the banner of "America First." In this reading tariffs are not merely an economic conflict but a means of re‑drawing the global hierarchy, with Washington forcing allies in Europe and Asia to bear more of the security burden while not relinquishing the right to make the final decisions.

Syria and the Middle East more broadly serve in the Turkish press as a clear example of this "new leadership." A recent piece in the business newspaper Dünya relayed words by US Secretary of State Marco Rubio in Bratislava: Washington is "pleased with developments" in Syria and considers it necessary to continue the current line. Turkish commentators retelling this message point to two moments. First, Rubio emphasizes that the US is "not leaving NATO" and is merely "moving a few thousand troops from one country to another," presenting this as routine. Second, at the same time he says the American side is ready to "try" to reach an agreement with Iran, but characterizes the Iranian leadership as people who make decisions "based on pure theology," essentially denying the partner's rationality. In the Turkish perception this looks like a typical trick: Washington allegedly maintains controlled instability in Syria, guaranteeing itself presence and influence, while constructing a negative image of Iran to secure intra‑alliance consensus for a hard line.

This duality especially irritates those Turkish commentators who see American initiatives in the Middle East structured around Israeli interests, assigning Turkey the role of a regional subcontractor. Güller in the same article about "Trump's peace" on Gaza emphasizes that the White House's 20‑point plan and the subsequent joint statement with Turkey, Egypt and Qatar do not contain the key condition of a real peace — recognition of a Palestinian state within the 1967 borders — and therefore are, for Palestinians, not "peace" but an imposed diktat. From this perspective the US not only "changes roles" but turns peacemaking into a tool that cements a status quo favorable to it and forces Ankara either to play along or to enter a difficult confrontation with Washington and its own economic interests.

Chinese analysis, meanwhile, concentrates less on Middle Eastern plots and more on a more abstract but vital issue for Beijing: where the American domestic economy and financial system are headed under Trump‑2 and what that means for the world. In one recent survey of global macroeconomic policy published on a Chinese economic portal, the authors propose the image of "sword, spear and shield" to describe the American economy: the "sword" is the administration's aggressive political will, the "spear" is the financial markets and the dollar, the "shield" is domestic consumer demand and social programs that dampen discontent. In this context they analyze in detail how Trump, according to Chinese authors, builds a "two‑stage" tariff strategy: first "inflated demands" and maximum tariff hikes against China, Canada, Mexico and certain industries, then — gradual mitigation through bilateral deals, while the threat of returning to high tariffs hangs over everyone as a constant factor of uncertainty. This approach is criticized in Beijing as "financialized populism": in their view it creates a boom in the US stock market and supports the dollar in the short term, but accumulates systemic risks — from a possible crash of overheated equities and crypto assets to further complicating management of the already heavy US debt.

Separate concern in Chinese expert circles is the link between the personal financial interests of the presidential family and macro policy. An analytical article in the journal People's Forum recalls how during Trump's second term his family quickly amassed wealth in the cryptocurrency sector, and how the president, having control over the Treasury and regulators, could theoretically tilt the state to "lend a shoulder" to digital assets in a crisis. The authors warn: if the bubble bursts and the state indeed intervenes to protect the market, it will shift risks from private investors onto the American taxpayer and increase the threat of a global financial shock. For Beijing, which is already building alternative payment systems and calling for dedollarization, such scenarios are an additional argument for accelerating the transition to a "multi‑currency world."

In Turkey, a quite different aspect of the "new leadership" has provoked particular irritation — the demonstrative readiness to use force against sovereign governments in Latin America. Columnist Alev Çoşkun in the same Cumhuriyet, summing up 2025, discusses in detail the operation in Venezuela when, according to his account, American forces acting on Trump's orders conducted a special operation on the territory of an independent state and transported President Nicolás Maduro and his wife to the US. For the Turkish audience this sounds especially painful: Çoşkun draws direct parallels between such US behavior and the role often attributed in Turkey to American embassies and intelligence services in domestic politics. Against this backdrop the figure of the new US ambassador to Ankara, businessman Tom Barrack, is described by him as a "viceroy" who not only represents his country but actually intervenes in Turkey's internal affairs, imposing governance models and even praising the Ottoman "millet system" as a supposedly suitable template for modern realities. For part of the Turkish establishment this is proof that Trump's America continues the tradition of paternalism toward allies, only intensifying its persistence and cynicism.

Chinese official media, by contrast, in public discourse try not to darken the picture around the US beyond necessary. At regular MFA press briefings spokespeople like Lin Jian prefer to maintain the formula of "seeking stability" in relations with Washington, stressing that from the Chinese side predictability and respect for the "legitimate rights and interests" of Chinese companies abroad are important. Questions about specific American initiatives are often answered with general formulations, steering the conversation toward the need for "mutually beneficial cooperation" and the inadmissibility of "politicizing trade." However, in analytical materials at universities and party journals the tone is noticeably harsher: there Washington is criticized for effectively dismantling the postwar economic architecture laid down by the US itself, while demanding greater loyalty and contributions to collective defense from Europe and Asia.

In South Korea current debates about the US, unlike the Turkish and Chinese ones, are primarily tied to security issues and the North Korean factor, but even there concerns about how predictable Washington remains are increasingly audible. Major Seoul outlets in their analytical pieces emphasize that American policy under Trump‑2 still guarantees a military presence and expands radars and missile defense, but simultaneously relies on rhetoric that treats allies more as "clients" who must pay more and ask fewer questions. This is especially evident in discussions related to the possible "redistribution" of American forces between the European and Asian theaters — against the backdrop of Washington's statements that relocating "a few thousand troops" allegedly does not affect the strategic essence of alliance commitments. In Seoul such signals strengthen voices calling for greater defense autonomy and even a debate about an indigenous nuclear capability, while most South Korean analysts still conclude that without the US the country would be left alone against a nuclear North and a rising China.

The China question, accordingly, becomes for Korean commentators another lens through which they assess American tariff and sanctions policy. Some experts see the US‑China trade war as a window of opportunity: reallocation of production chains, transfer of orders from China to Korea, increased demand for Korean chips and equipment if restrictions on China persist. Others warn that excessive alignment with Washington, including possible joining of additional export controls against China, could hurt Korean exports and provoke retaliatory measures from Beijing, not only in trade but also in culture, tourism, K‑pop and film, as happened previously in disputes over the THAAD missile defense system. For them Trump's America is a partner increasingly prone to unilateral decisions that are difficult for Seoul to guard against because the levers are asymmetric.

In China, Turkey and South Korea there is also a common, less obvious motive in the conversation about America — growing attention to the domestic social and institutional costs of American policy. Chinese writers, analyzing the explosive rise of American stock indices and cryptocurrencies against the backdrop of Trump's easy monetary policy, warn that behind the façade of "record‑breaking markets" lies deepening inequality between beneficiaries of the AI revolution and broad layers of the population suffering from a "housing affordability crisis" and lack of basic services. Turkish commentators see in such narratives confirmation of their long‑held thesis that American democracy is gradually losing its "normative attractiveness," turning into a mixture of plutocracy, legal battles among elites and rising political violence. In South Korea, where American culture and politics are traditionally studied closely, skepticism among the younger generation is growing: university debates increasingly ask how resilient US institutions really are and how sensible it is to build national security strategy on the assumption that America will forever remain as it was in the "golden period" of transatlantic unity.

A peculiar symbol of these doubts are comparisons of different "eras" of American foreign policy made by Chinese and Turkish analysts, comparing Trump not only with Biden or Obama but with Roosevelt and Hoover. In one Chinese review analyzing the practice of presidential decrees, Trump‑2 is described as a leader acting in "blitzkrieg mode" toward his predecessors' legacy: in the first months of his second term, according to Chinese authors, he signed more than two hundred decrees, a significant portion of which directly overturn Biden's decisions, and some even reprogram the logic of regulation in technology, investment and security. Such pace and scale of revision are seen as signs of institutional turbulence: if every four or eight years one administration erases the traces of the previous one, this radically reduces the predictability of American policy for external partners.

As a result, in Seoul, Beijing and Ankara there is a convergence on one point: one must continue to deal with the US as the largest military and financial power, but it is no longer acceptable to automatically regard Washington as the stabilizing center of the world system. South Korea is trying to expand its maneuvering space between the American nuclear umbrella and the Chinese market; Turkey is navigating between its role as a NATO ally and a desire for regional autonomy, constantly testing where Washington's red line of tolerance lies; and China is playing a long game of building alternative economic and technological centers of gravity while trying to avoid direct confrontation with the United States as the latter sorts out its own internal imbalances.

In all three countries there is growing demand not for simplistic "anti‑Americanism" but for a sober, pragmatic understanding of how to live in a world where the US remains a necessary but increasingly complicated partner and competitor. And this, perhaps, is the main difference between the current wave of debates and past ones: America is no longer perceived as a monolith in Beijing, Seoul or Ankara. Instead local analysts dissect it as a system whose internal contradictions, tariff wars, Middle Eastern experiments and financial bubbles will for a long time shape not only Washington's fate but also the trajectories of their own countries' development.

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"Munich, tariffs and distrust: how India, France and Germany are arguing with America today"

In recent days, discussions about the United States in India, France and Germany have revolved around one common theme: the world is entering a "post‑American" era, yet security, trade and the financial system still depend on Washington. Against this backdrop, almost all debates boil down to three major storylines: how to live with Donald Trump's America, how to build security under an increasingly unreliable American umbrella, and what to do about America’s internal problems that damage its moral authority.

The first major knot of disputes is the return of a harshly transactional US approach to allies, especially in Europe. French press in recent weeks has literally been "counting" Donald Trump's tariffs. In one Le Figaro edition the headline "Un monde selon Trump" — "A World According to Trump" — is accompanied by a list of new tariffs: 15%, another 10%, plus threats to impose up to 200% on certain goods, described as "punishments" falling on the French and Europeans for "winning too much" from access to the American market. The paper explicitly writes that Europe is "preparing for a divorce from the US," since six months of unilateral tariffs have already undermined trust and the White House threatens a new trade war. In the same French dossier the alarm extends to the security sphere: US plans and actions in Greenland are described as an "offensive américain," an advance that cracks NATO cohesion and pushes Paris to the idea that European defence should be built to withstand pressure from an ally, not only threats from adversaries. (kiosque.lefigaro.fr)

Germany is discussing the same problem but from a different perspective: if France speaks of a divorce, then Berlin speaks of a "new marriage contract" with the US and of what Germany's own role should be in a "post‑American" Europe. At the Munich Security Conference, Chancellor Friedrich Merz called for a "Neustart" — a reboot of transatlantic relations, but on new foundations: with a "strong and largely autonomous European pillar in NATO," up to and including discussion of European participation in nuclear deterrence. As he put it, partnership with the US should be a "handshake of equals," not a patron‑client relationship. At the same time Merz stresses the legal taboo on Germany having its own nuclear weapons, proposing reliance on France's capability and a collective framework deterrence in NATO. (welt.de)

German analysts, for their part, speak not only about Washington but also about the possibility that Germany will automatically fill the space left by a weakening US. In one influential piece a paradoxical formula is expressed: in the context of "US foreign‑policy unreliability under Trump" Germany begins to play a more active role, including by stationing troops in Lithuania, and at the same time revives old fears — especially in France and Poland — of possible German domination. The authors remind readers that the postwar security architecture was built around an American guarantor and German restraint; if the US "umbrella" is unreliable, temptations for national strengthening arise—temptations Europe has been taught to avoid for decades. To avoid becoming a new hegemon in place of a weakened America, these texts argue, Berlin must weave its military and foreign policy as tightly as possible into pan‑European mechanisms and openly explain to partners that the goal is the defence of Europe, not a return to national "hegemonic fantasies." (welt.de)

The second theme uniting European discussions is the new security configuration and the very manner of the American administration's behavior within international institutions. German Deutschlandfunk in a recent press review program highlights the speech of Secretary of State Marco Rubio in Munich: his words about commitment to a "strong Europe" and a "transatlantic partnership" drew enthusiastic applause — precisely because today even such routine formulas are received as long‑awaited confirmation: America is still here. At the same time, German and European reviews carry a vein of skepticism: past years have shown that friendly rhetoric does not preclude Washington’s readiness to impose its conditions on migration, security and the economy and to move quickly to unilateral steps. (deutschlandfunk.de)

From this logic grows a very practical German fear: how everyday interactions between citizens and businesses with America are changing. At a recent German government briefing journalists asked official Berlin about planned tightening of US entry rules for tourists. A Foreign Ministry spokesperson acknowledged that the draft changes are being studied carefully and that Germany will quickly adjust its travel advice. The key message, however, sounded cautious: the US "sovereignly" determines visa and migration policy, but Berlin is "watching closely," since the changes are already causing concern, up to the disruption of school exchange programs. This reply is characteristic: on one hand, respect for sovereignty; on the other, dissatisfaction with the opacity and unilateralism of decisions that instantly affect European societies. (bundesregierung.de)

French analysis looks beyond the Atlantic: the new US National Security Strategy, published at the end of 2025, is seen by Parisian experts as a document that not only cements a hard confrontation with China but also redefines the place of allies. An editorial by Fondation France‑Asie stresses that Washington is beefing up military presence and arms sales in the Taiwan Strait area, which in turn forces Southeast Asian and Indo‑Pacific countries to develop much more complex strategies: increasing cooperation with the US in security and high technology while diversifying ties with China, Japan and India, so that a single change of course in Washington does not wipe out their bets. (fondationfranceasie.org)

Here India enters the broader picture, and its conversation about the US sounds noticeably different. In Indian foreign‑policy discourse the key concept remains "strategic autonomy." When in 2024–2025 US officials criticized Narendra Modi's visit to Russia and Delhi's energy cooperation with Moscow, the Indian Foreign Ministry responded sharply: as spokesman Randhir Jaiswal emphasized, India, "like many other countries, places great value on its strategic autonomy," and all partners' objections should be viewed through the prism that Indian interests are not reducible to the interests of a single bloc. (indianewsnetwork.com)

In the same vein is India's reaction to Trump's accusations that India supposedly "buys massive volumes of Russian oil and resells it on the open market for windfall profits" and therefore deserves a sharp increase in US tariffs. Former Indian diplomat Ashok Malik, in a comment for Euronews, describes such an approach as undermining "the efforts the two capitals have undertaken over 25 years" to build a relationship of trust. He reminds readers that Delhi offered the US "the most ambitious trade agreement in its history," including the politically painful question for Modi of opening the agricultural market to American products, and warns: if Washington treats India as another offender rather than as a key strategic partner, Delhi's interest in alternatives will inevitably grow — from deepening ties with Europe to rapprochement with Russia and Asian powers. (fr.euronews.com)

At the same time, India's discussion about the US does not occur only at the elite level. Studies of the Indian‑American diaspora show a complex attitude toward both sides: many of those living in the US with Indian origins view the current trajectory of bilateral relations positively and believe that Democratic administrations better protected the interests of their homeland than Trump's team, but they also express concern about the rise of "Hindu majoritarianism" within Indian society and are not prepared to automatically back a hard line from Delhi in disputes with Washington. In one survey covered by the business press, only about half of respondents considered it acceptable for any country (be it India or the US) to carry out targeted‑killing operations against suspected separatists on the territory of another state; a "slim majority" opposed such practices, showing that even in a diaspora that is pragmatic and favorably disposed toward strategic partnership, attention to legal and ethical frameworks of great‑power behavior remains high. (business-standard.com)

The third major block of international discussions concerns the internal state of America itself and how it undermines its ability to speak for the "liberal order." In French human‑rights reports, for example in the recent Human Rights Watch report on the US, it is documented in detail that the country remains one of the world leaders in terms of prison population—close to two million inmates—with a significant share held in pretrial detention simply because they cannot post bail. The report also highlights two issues that particularly puzzle Europeans: the prevalence of the death penalty (47 executions in 2025 alone) and the practice of sentencing minors to life without parole—a practice unique to the US among developed countries. It also notes increased efforts by authorities to criminalize homelessness and forcibly place people with mental disorders, as well as the fact that police killed more than 1,300 people in a year. All these data are used by European human‑rights advocates and politicians as an argument: America, so active in pointing out others' human‑rights violations, itself demonstrates "structural problems" with equality before the law and the treatment of vulnerable groups. (hrw.org)

In French and German intellectual circles there is a parallel discussion of the socio‑economic dimension of American problems: rising inequality, concentration of wealth, and instability in presidential support. One francophone analytical piece on Joe Biden's legacy describes his presidency as "paradoxical": on one hand, a declared course toward "reining in the oligarchy" and protecting the middle class; on the other, OECD data showing that income inequality in the US has increased over the past two decades, and White House approval ratings swinging between 36 and 56 percent, reflecting not so much policy successes as deepening polarization. Such analysis serves in Europe as a kind of mirror: if the main defender of the Western model is itself losing social stability, relying solely on the American "example" becomes risky. (fatshimetrie.org)

Indian commentators in this part of the debate sound less moralizing but no less pragmatic. Analyses of frictions between Washington and New Delhi often emphasize: America remains an indispensable partner in technology and defence, but Indian society watches carefully how the US treats its own minorities, migrants and diasporas—including the Indian diaspora. Every visa‑policy tightening, every scandal over discrimination or police violence in the US immediately becomes front‑page news in India not only as a story "about them" but as a warning about possible risks for Indians abroad. Therefore, when the Indian Foreign Ministry speaks of the right to "dissent" with a partner, that dissent rests not only on state interests but also on sensitivity to what is happening inside the partner itself. (indianewsnetwork.com)

There is one more important but less obvious common thread in the three countries: all are discussing, in different forms, the need to build a world in which the US is no longer the sole center of gravity. In Germany this is spoken of directly: Merz emphasizes that Europe must become economically, militarily and politically stronger to compete in a world of several great powers and not be hostage to the "whims" of an overseas partner. The same German articles stress that Berlin must build not only a "new Atlantism" but also new global partnerships—including with India, Brazil and South Africa—even if those countries do not share all Western values. (welt.de)

French analysis shifts the focus to Asia: discussing American strategy in the Indo‑Pacific, experts conclude that it is paradoxically accelerating the formation of a more autonomous Asia. ASEAN countries, Japan, South Korea and India are simultaneously deepening cooperation with Washington and building parallel mechanisms so as not to depend on a single guarantor. In that sense the US remains a key security node, but no longer the only one around which the region revolves. (fondationfranceasie.org)

The Indian concept of "strategic autonomy" here looks not like an exception but as a harbinger of a global trend. For Delhi it is not an anti‑Western slogan but an attempt to institutionalize the right to multi‑vectorism: to participate in the Quad with the US and Japan, buy arms from Russia, trade with the EU, build Asian and African supply chains—and at the same time not sign a "blank check" to either Washington or Beijing. What a decade ago in Europe seemed a manifestation of "Asian pragmatism" is increasingly discussed as a possible model for the EU itself, which is forced to respond simultaneously to American tariffs and Chinese competition without severing ties with either side. (fr.euronews.com)

If one combines all these voices, an interesting picture emerges. Germany and France, traditional pillars of the transatlantic community, today view the US through a lens of anxiety and fatigue: they still want to see America as a guarantor, but are increasingly preparing for a scenario in which that guarantor is either self‑absorbed or demands a price Europe is unwilling to pay. India, historically distant from the Atlantic world, has moved closer to Washington in recent decades, but that rapprochement has made it particularly sensitive to American arbitrariness: attempts to pressure through tariffs or criticize relations with Russia are met in Delhi not with acquiescence but with a firm reminder of the right to pursue an independent policy.

Across all three countries there remains a simple but important understanding: a world without the US in the foreseeable future is impossible, but a world in which only the US sets the rules is also no longer possible. Thus today's disputes with America in Paris, Berlin and Delhi are less about rupture than about tense, complicated negotiations over a new format of coexistence, in which Washington remains a superpower but no longer the sole center of power or the only source of legitimacy.

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How the World Sees America Now: Venezuela, the Gulf, and the "New Dollar"

In February 2026 conversations about America in Beijing, Riyadh and Moscow have shifted from the abstract “decline of the US” to the very concrete steps of Donald Trump’s new administration: a military operation in Venezuela, a sharp buildup of forces in the Persian Gulf amid protests in Iran, a search for a new configuration with Europe and, at the same time, an attempt to hold on to the dollar-centered global financial system. Each of the three capitals views this differently, but common themes are easy to spot: distrust of American leadership, paired with a sober recognition of the continuing power of the United States and a wary attention to how Washington is changing the rules of the game without asking anyone.

The loudest episode of the start of the year was the US military operation in Venezuela, which prompted an emergency meeting of the UN Security Council on January 5. Venezuela ultimately declared a “diplomatic victory,” stressing that Washington’s actions were sharply criticized at the UN and that the positions of the Security Council’s permanent members were split: Russia and China backed Caracas, while the United Kingdom formally supported the United States while calling for de‑escalation. Russian and Chinese observers wrote about this in detail, emphasizing that it is a rare case in which the United States appears clearly on the defensive in a forum that has traditionally served as a showcase for its legitimacy.(ru.wikipedia.org)

Against this backdrop, the US deployment in the Persian Gulf looked less like an isolated episode and more like part of a broader line: in January the White House sent a strike carrier strike group led by the Abraham Lincoln, destroyers, submarines, strike and reconnaissance aircraft and high‑altitude UAVs to the region, explaining it as necessary to “protect protesters in Iran” and to contain escalation amid the ongoing war in the Middle East. In Russian and Arab discourse this reinforcement is seen as a key test: are the United States truly willing to go this far to change the regional balance of power, and will the Iraq or Libya scenario be repeated under a new pretext of human rights.(ru.wikipedia.org)

At the same time the United States is trying to rework relations with Europe. At the Munich Security Conference on February 13–15, Secretary of State Marco Rubio urged Europeans that America does not seek “the end of the transatlantic era,” but rather wants to “revive the old alliance” and lean on a “strong Europe.” In European and Chinese retellings his speech is presented as an attempt to soften Washington’s image after last year’s harsh attacks by J. D. Vance and to regain trust—while still refusing to abandon a tougher dealmaking stance with allies.(zh.wikipedia.org)

Against this background China, Saudi Arabia and Russia look at America through the prism of their own worries and ambitions: Beijing—through system competition and the fate of dollar hegemony; Riyadh—through the risks of a new major war on its borders and the need to maneuver between Washington, Moscow and Beijing; and Moscow—through the Ukrainian front, nuclear deterrence and the question of where exactly the red line of a new deal with the US will run.

In the Chinese debate two themes are especially noticeable today: Washington’s rollout of a new military and sanction architecture, and, simultaneously, signs of “fatigue” or ineffectiveness in American economic policy. In analytic notes published by Chinese research centers, the United States is often described as a power that, on the one hand, still possesses colossal military capabilities and control over the critical infrastructure of the world economy, but, on the other, increasingly relies on coercive pressure, tariffs and unilateral measures that undermine confidence in the dollar.

A characteristic example is the analysis by a researcher at the China Renmin University, who writes directly that the taxes and tariffs of the Trump administration “effectively shift the cost of debt onto consumers,” fuel inflation and undermine trust in the dollar as a risk‑free asset. In his observation, the attempt to “wash away debt through inflation,” given deindustrialization and heavy dependence on import chains, leads not to productivity growth but to stagflation and rising social anxiety, while the dollar’s global status is for the first time in a long while facing a “substantial challenge.”(sgl.ruc.edu.cn) In Chinese discourse this is naturally linked to the fact that the US is simultaneously trying to “diversify” sources of critical resources—especially minerals and high‑tech components—and increasingly uses sanctions, asset freezes and control over payment infrastructure as weapons. For Beijing this is further proof that relying on American financial architecture puts China’s development at risk.

Hence the emphasis on preparing for a world “after the dollar” or, at least, for a world in which the dollar is no longer the only option. In reports from Chinese institutes the dollar’s position at the top of the global system is increasingly described as a temporary anomaly propped up not only by US economic power but by institutional infrastructure—from the IMF to SWIFT—that Washington now openly uses as a lever of pressure. At the same time they stress that alternatives such as the yuan or regional settlement systems are objectively still weak, meaning the transition period will be long and conflictual. In this logic the strengthened American military presence in the Persian Gulf and pressure on Venezuela are seen as part of a battle to maintain control over key energy sources and logistics, without which the dollar system would lose an important pillar.

The Saudi perspective is less theoretical and far more pragmatic. In Riyadh the reaction to the US buildup in the Persian Gulf and the military operation in Venezuela revolves around several obvious questions for the Saudi elite: how reliable is the American “nuclear and military umbrella” in the long term, can the US be trusted as a security partner, and how to minimize risks for the kingdom’s oil strategy and domestic reforms.

Public opinion polls several years ago already showed that ordinary Saudis had begun to rate the United States noticeably behind China and Russia as “important” external partners. A study by a Washington think tank using a regional field company found that only 41% of respondents considered good relations with the US important for the kingdom, while China and Russia scored 57% and 53% respectively; moreover, most agreed with the thesis: “You cannot rely on the US now, so we need to look more to countries like China and Russia as partners.”(washingtoninstitute.org) Since then little has changed among the population in Washington’s favor: US promises to “return” to the Middle East after a period of “fatigue with the region” are seen as a tactical episode linked to Iranian protests and regional war, not a strategic pivot.

However, within the Saudi establishment the tone is more measured. Military and diplomatic sources in the kingdom recently emphasized in interviews that the presence of the US navy in the Persian Gulf still serves a deterrent function, including against those who might strike oil production and transport infrastructure. At the same time Saudi publications carefully track how the US expands sanction mechanisms against Iran’s oil and shipping sectors, simultaneously affecting companies from the UAE, Turkey, Georgia, China and other countries. Commentary converges on the point that Washington increasingly uses financial and secondary sanctions instead of direct pressure on Tehran, and a side effect is higher risks for legitimate market participants.(anna-news.info)

For Saudi Arabia this is a signal: the US can at any moment retarget its sanction gaze if it deems Saudi policy on oil, China or Russia to exceed acceptable bounds. Therefore local discussions increasingly pair the topic of American military‑political presence with talks about broadening maneuvering space—from Chinese investments in Vision‑2030 to tactical rapprochement with Moscow on the oil market, even if positions diverge on Ukraine and Syria.

In Russian perception the United States remains the main “structural adversary,” but the range of assessments has become more complex. A Levada‑Center poll in spring 2025, amid negotiations between Moscow and Washington, showed that Russians’ views of the US had improved somewhat, although almost two thirds still called bilateral relations poor. At the same time most respondents had a negative view of Joe Biden, while a significant share spoke more positively of Donald Trump—as a politician with whom, at least, “you can make deals” and who is open to bargains.(levada.ru)

But each new round of real‑world politics quickly sobers these moderate optimists. After the US‑proposed ceasefire on the Ukrainian front and the subsequent massive Russian strikes on Kyiv and Lviv in the night of January 9, 2026—which Europe described as an “unacceptable escalation” and an answer of “rockets and destruction to diplomacy”—Russian commentators sharply split. Some see the American line as an attempt to shift responsibility for further escalation onto Moscow and Kyiv; others view it as a step toward effectively “freezing” the conflict on terms favorable to the United States, giving Washington a pause to retune its priorities toward the Middle East and Asia.(ru.wikipedia.org)

Military and foreign‑policy commentators in Moscow, discussing the US operation in Venezuela and the increased presence in the Persian Gulf, point to a common pattern: Washington’s actions are increasingly less supported by a long‑term strategy and more often look like responses to domestic American political impulses—from the need to show toughness to the electorate to attempts to distract from economic difficulties. Analytical journals draw parallels between Washington’s current steps and the Reagan era, but with the caveat that while Reagan’s “democratic crusader” ideology was backed by a clear economic model and allied confidence, today allies more often doubt the US and the American economy is being eroded by debts and political fragmentation.

At the same time Russian economic experts carefully monitor the dollar. Professional currency market reviews contain assessments that the US dollar periodically strengthens on expectations of a more “hawkish” Fed chair—e.g., after discussion of the Kevin Warsh candidacy—but strategically the US itself undermines confidence in its currency by turning it into an instrument of “selective punishment” of entire countries and sectors. That is how Moscow interprets the new wave of US sanctions against companies linked to Iran and operating through the UAE, Turkey, Georgia and China: these measures are seen not as a technical step but as another reminder that in the current system any country can become a target if perceived as an obstacle to American goals.(anna-news.info)

At the intersection of these three perspectives a broader picture emerges. China sees the US as still a powerful but no longer omnipotent architect of the system, trying to cement its dominance through coercive pressure and control of infrastructure. Saudi Arabia watches the same developments with far more pragmatic anxiety: how to extract the maximum benefit from American naval presence and technology without becoming hostage to unpredictable sanction and military policy. Russia, in turn, regards Washington as an adversary with whom it nevertheless must arrange a “game of long deals”—from arms control to potential agreements on Ukraine and energy—but harbors no illusions about the stability or predictability of the American course.

An interesting detail to the portrait of contemporary America through the eyes of these three countries is the reaction to Marco Rubio’s Munich speech. In Chinese reviews his words about a “united world” in which the US and Europe belong to a common civilizational community are interpreted as confirmation that Washington’s real bet is on consolidating a “collective West” and forming a hard bloc against China and Russia, while any declarations of a “reset” with Beijing are seen as tactical. Russian press, by contrast, highlights the contrast with last year’s speech by J. D. Vance on the same stage: the tone may have softened, but the content has not changed—and the aim is not a return to classic transatlanticism but an attempt to reformat it for the new administration’s tasks. In Saudi Arabia Munich is primarily read as an indicator of how far the US is willing to go in contacts with Europe on energy and Middle East issues—and whether behind closed doors Washington and Brussels might consider pressing oil prices and OPEC+’s role to serve their domestic aims.(zh.wikipedia.org)

There is a shared intuition across Beijing, Riyadh and Moscow: America remains a center of power without which no major crisis is resolved—neither the Iranian, nor the Venezuelan, nor the Ukrainian. But there is a growing sense that the US has lost the ability to be the “undisputed arbiter” of the world system. Instead of a single global center of legitimacy—the US plus institutions it controls—a mosaic of regional and functional centers is increasingly taking shape, where China, Russia, Saudi Arabia and other players expect greater autonomy.

That is why the most farsighted voices in these countries are now less focused on “weakening” America and more on how to fit into the new configuration so that ties to Washington are exactly as strong as necessary—and no stronger. And precisely for that reason every new US move—from the Security Council vote on Venezuela to the carrier deployment toward Iran—provokes such close interest in Beijing, Riyadh and Moscow: these are not just news about “foreign” policy, but tiny pieces of the puzzle from which the map of the future world is assembled.

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How the World Sees America Today: Gaza, Tariffs and the "New" Trump

At the beginning of 2026, America is again at the center of global conversation, but the focus has shifted: this is no longer an abstract debate about "U.S. leadership," but very concrete questions — Washington's role in the war in Gaza, trade wars and truces, relations with China and a new cycle of turbulence around Donald Trump's return to the White House. For Saudi Arabia, Australia and India this is not just the foreign policy of a distant power, but a set of decisions directly affecting security, trade, energy prices and domestic debates.

Saudi, Australian and Indian commentators have been discussing the same American moves in recent weeks, but read them differently, based on their own anxieties and ambitions. Three crosscutting themes appear in all three countries: the American role in the war in Gaza and more broadly in the Middle East; Trump's trade‑and‑sanctions style and its consequences for partners; and U.S. competition with China, which increasingly plays out not in the Pacific but over oil, in the Red Sea and in customs tariffs.

These three countries illustrate how the lens is changing: the world speaks less of the U.S. as a "guarantor of order" and more as a large but unpredictable player whose decisions must be hedged against in advance — with alternative partners, independent initiatives and economic safety cushions.

The central nervous thread of current debates is American policy in Gaza and the surrounding region. In Arab media the war has become a litmus test of Washington’s real course, and Saudi Arabia, despite an officially cautious tone, allows its semi‑official media field to speak far more sharply than two years ago. Al Jazeera’s analysis of U.S. tactics in Gaza negotiations emphasizes that Washington places regional escalation prevention and the preservation of Israel’s military freedom of action above ending Palestinian suffering: negotiations, in effect, serve as a tool to buy time, not to seek a sustainable peace. The authors of that analysis write directly that U.S. strategy "hierarchizes" problems so that Gaza and the Palestinian issue overall are pushed to the background compared with the task of containing Iran and its allies. (studies.aljazeera.net)

Saudi commentary adds another layer: accumulated irritation that the American military machine during the same period struck at Yemen and intervened in the Red Sea crisis, doing so, as seen in the region, not to protect Gaza’s residents but to insure global shipping flows and its own interests. The long operation to secure shipping in the Red Sea and the subsequent bilateral U.S.–Houthi ceasefire concluded in May 2025 are perceived in Saudi analysis as a sign that the U.S. is acting more surgically and transactionally: Washington extracts a cessation of attacks on its ships from the Houthis and builds a separate line with them, even if attacks on other vessels and general instability in the strait persist. (en.wikipedia.org)

This pushes Saudi commentators toward an old but recently intensified conclusion: Saudi Arabia can no longer regard the U.S. as the sole guarantor of the regional architecture. Studies by external analytic centers show that in public opinion within the kingdom the U.S. already cedes ground to China and Russia as partners, especially economically, and a majority of respondents consider that in future they will have to rely primarily on alternative centers of power. (washingtoninstitute.org) This perceptual shift overlays heightened sensitivity to the Palestinian issue: a harsher anti‑Israel rhetoric in Saudi media at the start of 2026, noted also by foreign observers, is at once a message to Israel and, indirectly, a warning to Washington that without a serious course correction on Gaza any talk of "normalization" hangs in the air. (toyourelbared.com)

The Australian conversation about the U.S. role in the region runs through a different prism — the prism of alliance obligations, maritime security and the balance with China. Canberra is structurally embedded in the American architecture, from AUKUS to joint operations, so Australian analysts discussing Gaza are more concerned with strategic than humanitarian consequences: does open U.S. support for Israel undermine America’s moral authority in Asia and make it easier for Beijing to present itself as a more "responsible" global actor? Columns in leading Australian outlets repeatedly make the same point: the more Washington is associated in the global South with unconditional military backing for Israel, the easier it is for China to build an alternative discourse of "multilateralism" and "sovereign choice" — especially in nodes like Yemen, the Red Sea and the Horn of Africa, where Chinese economic interests are intertwined with the security of trade routes. Atlantic and Middle East think‑tank analysts detail how Beijing uses support for the Houthis and technological supplies to Yemen as an instrument of "cheap proxy warfare" that raises the cost for the U.S. of patrolling the Red Sea. (atlanticcouncil.org) For Australian commentators this is a testing ground: if the U.S. cannot handle a relatively limited task of stabilizing one critical maritime choke point, how reliable are its guarantees in the Indo‑Pacific region on which Australia’s security directly depends?

India’s lens on Gaza is even more layered. On one hand, the ruling elite clearly does not want to quarrel with Washington over the Palestinian issue, particularly amid growing confrontation with China. On the other hand, Indian public debate — especially among the Muslim minority and parts of the liberal class — watches closely how American support for Israel intersects with sanction policy that has hit Indian purchases of Russian oil and exports to the U.S. American and European politicians’ remarks at major forums, like the Munich Security Conference where Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio‑Cortez accuses U.S. military aid to Israel of "enabling genocide in Gaza" and calls for human rights legislation to be applied with the same rigor as to other countries, are interpreted by Indian analysts as a sign of growing intra‑American split. (theguardian.com) For New Delhi this signals instability: U.S. foreign policy may be increasingly hostage to domestic cultural and electoral wars, making reliance on Washington’s predictability even on basic issues like sanctions and tariffs riskier.

If Gaza and the Middle East set the emotional backdrop, the main practical question for Australia and India is the trade style of the Trump administration and its return to "tariff diplomacy." In India in recent months nearly every major business outlet has had to explain to readers what a prolonged tariff conflict with the U.S. means for business and consumers: since August 2025 Washington, tying duties to India’s volume of Russian oil purchases, pushed the aggregate rate on a number of Indian goods to 50%, making India one of the most heavily taxed trading partners. (en.wikipedia.org) Expert columns call this "punishment for strategic autonomy," and Mukesh Aghi, president of the U.S.–India Strategic Partnership Forum, in an interview with the Indian press directly calls U.S. secondary tariffs "unfair," stressing that purchases of Russian oil were made within parameters previously agreed with Washington. (indianexpress.com)

Against this backdrop, the February 2026 agreement to cut U.S. tariffs on Indian exports to 18% and to eliminate the additional 25% surcharge is seen in Indian analysis as a victory, but a qualified one. Indian research centers and government‑service portals, parsing the details of the deal, stress its reciprocal nature: Washington retreats on tariffs but in return gets India’s promise to sharply reduce purchases of Russian oil, open its market to U.S. agricultural products and, de facto, introduce "buy American" into a significant portion of public procurement and large industrial projects. (india-briefing.com) Business press, from the Economic Times to industry reviews in fashion, describe this as relief for textile and apparel exporters, who may gain billions of dollars a year thanks to lower rates, but at the same time as a serious constraint on India’s energy maneuverability and industrial subsidies. (vogue.com)

The political opposition exploits this ambivalence. INDIA bloc leader Rahul Gandhi, speaking on February 11, 2026, not only criticized the deal as "poorly bargained," but used the image of Trump as a tough yet predictable negotiator to argue that the current government failed to negotiate as equals. Gandhi stated that under different leadership India "would not have allowed itself to be equated with Pakistan" in trade or diplomatic terms, clearly hinting that the Trump administration tends to view South Asia through an India–Pakistan parity lens rather than as a partnership of two equal powers. (timesofindia.indiatimes.com) Such rhetoric reveals the depth of domestic consensus: both government and opposition agree that the U.S. is a key partner, but they dispute how not to become an object rather than remain a subject in Washington’s transactional game.

Australia, unlike India, did not come under direct tariff attack in 2025–2026, but Australian analysis watches closely how "Trumponomics" breaks the architecture of global trade. Many in Canberra see India as a kind of "test case": if even a strategic partner and counterweight to China in Asia can be targeted with 50% tariffs and politically motivated conditions, then any country, including Australia, must assume that access to the U.S. market and the tariff regime is not an institutional good but a pressure instrument that can be used at any moment. European and Asian commentators write this explicitly, discussing how Trump’s return pushes the EU to seek support in partnering with India to compensate for the unpredictability of the United States. (washingtonpost.com)

Saudi Arabia is involved in this trade web differently: not through tariffs but through the intertwining of energy, high technology and geopolitics. Recent Saudi analysis increasingly notes that American defense and tech companies are more cautious about entering joint projects with the kingdom if the deal involves a Chinese or Russian element, fearing repercussions from Washington. The failure of a joint air‑defense project involving American RTX (formerly Raytheon), which experts link to Chinese‑Russian ties of the Saudi partner, is treated in specialized reviews as a symptom of a new "red line": the U.S. is unwilling to tolerate the spread of technologies deployed in its forces through countries that simultaneously cooperate closely with Beijing and Moscow. (washingtoninstitute.org) At the same time, those same reports remind readers that America retains unique cards — from dominance in advanced chip production to regional military infrastructure — and urge Washington to use them more subtly, not merely as a sanctions club.

The third major theme running through all three countries is U.S.–China competition and the gradual shifting of the field of that struggle to the periphery: the Red Sea, Yemen, energy and transport arteries. It turns out that even high‑minded talk of a "multipolar world" in practice takes root in very concrete episodes.

Saudi authors, discussing China’s growing role in the kingdom’s economy and its involvement in Middle East conflicts, closely read publications from regional and international analytic centers. From Yemeni and international experts’ publications, for example, it becomes clear how Beijing has built an unspoken arrangement with the Houthis under which ships under Chinese flags are left alone while strikes are concentrated on "Western" and U.S.‑allied vessels. This kind of "cheap proxy war," waged against the U.S. using dual‑use technologies and intelligence flowing into Yemen via Chinese satellite companies and Iranian channels, allows China both to probe the limits of American presence and to maintain the image of a formally neutral actor. (atlanticcouncil.org) Saudi commentators worry that this puts their country in a difficult balancing position: on one hand Beijing is an increasingly important economic partner; on the other hand, the strengthening of Chinese influence in Yemen and the Red Sea largely occurs at the expense of the erosion of the traditional American security guarantor, making the region less, not more, predictable.

For India, Sino‑American rivalry is above all a question of long trade and technology cycles. Indian press widely cites global reviews showing that long‑term U.S. pressure on China in the form of tariffs and export controls proved less destructive than expected: Beijing managed not only to compensate for the drop in bilateral trade with the U.S. but to push its overall external trade surplus to record levels. (thediplomat.com) Against this backdrop Indian strategists see a double opportunity and a double risk in the current turn of American policy. The opportunity is that U.S. and European companies looking for "China plus one" in their supply chains may choose India, which, by signing trade agreements with the West, aims to be that "plus one." The risk is that the same tool — tariffs — can easily be redirected at Delhi if Washington deems India not to be distancing itself from Moscow quickly enough or to be too vigorous in defending its own digital‑sovereignty platforms.

Australian experts view this from another angle: if China can use conflicts in Yemen and Gaza as relatively cheap ways to drain U.S. resources and test its readiness for protracted crises, how sustainable will the American presence be in the South China Sea and around Taiwan, where the stakes are far higher? This question increasingly appears in Australian analytical reviews, where authors compare U.S. readiness to send carriers to the Iranian coast while simultaneously fighting for influence in the Indo‑Pacific. News that Trump is considering deploying a second carrier strike group near Iran amid another wave of tensions and simultaneous Gaza negotiations draws far more attention in Australia than in Europe: for Canberra it is a direct illustration of whether the American military can handle several major crises at once. (washingtonpost.com)

Interestingly, American debates themselves increasingly become an object of analysis in these countries as a variable affecting their calculations. Ocasio‑Cortez's Munich speech, in which she not only criticizes military aid to Israel but accuses Trump and current Secretary of State Marco Rubio of ushering in an "age of authoritarianism" in foreign policy, is interpreted in Indian and Australian political columns as a sign of deep ideological polarization in the U.S., which makes long‑term planning by partners even harder. (theguardian.com) And reviews such as Al Jazeera’s long piece on the "push‑and‑pull" between Trump and the rest of the world in 2025–2026, which lists both his "expansionist" statements and the practice of using tariffs as an almost universal diplomatic lever, allow Middle Eastern, including Saudi, commentators to speak of a qualitative shift in American foreign policy: from institutional to personalized, from predictable to improvisational. (aljazeera.net)

In these conditions Saudi Arabia, Australia and India reach different practical conclusions but start from a similar premise: the U.S. remains a necessary partner but is no longer either unambiguously indispensable or unquestionably stable. Saudi analysts emphasize that multipolarity gives the kingdom room for maneuver — from deepening ties with China to situational rapprochement with Russia — but also requires Washington to work more subtly if it does not want to ultimately cede the field of influence. Australian commentators call for "expanding insurance" — deepening European, Indian and regional ties to mitigate possible consequences of future turns in Washington. Indian discourse, finally, increasingly reduces to the formula: "America is a key partner, but not an anchor": Delhi is prepared to accept painful concessions on oil and markets while conspicuously preserving a rhetoric of "strategic autonomy" and refusing to treat tariff agreements as permanently fixed.

The common conclusion of these three different conversations is that the image of the U.S. as the "center of the world system" is dissolving into many regional narratives. For Riyadh America is both an indispensable source of security and an increasingly costly partner whose stance on Gaza undermines its moral capital in the Arab world. For Canberra it is the main military shield and simultaneously a source of strategic uncertainty, forcing Australia to strengthen its own and regional ties. For New Delhi it is a critical technological, military and financial partner whose penchant for "tariff diplomacy" and internal polarization turns every agreement into an episode in a long, nerve‑worn game.

And in all three cases one thing is clear: discussion of the U.S. is no longer limited to the question "should America lead the world?" A far more important question is how to live in a world where the United States is only one, if a very large, pole — and how to ensure that its next improvisation is not fatal for you.

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How the World Sees America After the Venezuela Strike and New Crises

In February 2026 the United States once again found itself at the center of global debate — not only as a key power but also as a source of instability. A military operation against Venezuela that resulted in the seizure of Nicolás Maduro, growing pressure on Iran, the protracted conflict in Ukraine and uncertainty about American democracy itself have provoked a new wave of discussion in different countries: from cautious alarm to outright outrage. How these events are written about in Tokyo, Berlin and Moscow shows that the world no longer sees Washington as an unquestioned “anchor of order,” but it remains unprepared to live without American power.

The main new dividing line is the Venezuelan operation. Formally, Washington justified it as a fight against drug trafficking, but the very nature of the actions — massive air strikes on Caracas, special forces landings and the forcible removal of President Maduro to the United States — is perceived abroad as a revival of the “regime‑change” logic of the early 2000s. Russian and European sources note that Operation “Absolute Resolve” began on January 3, with attacks on targets in the capital and the capture of Maduro and his wife, who were then taken to U.S. territory to face prosecution on drug‑trafficking charges — a fact recorded even in the restrained Russian Wikipedia article on events in Venezuela in 2026. The mere fact that this event is already framed as a historical watershed underscores its scale and symbolism.

In German and broader European discussion about the U.S., the Venezuelan episode layers onto a long experience of dissatisfaction with American unilateralism, but it sounds much less emotional than in Russia. European analysts focus on how this damages the remnants of international legal consensus. In reports from the Munich Security Conference, where Ukraine and NATO dominated, the Venezuelan operation is mentioned more as another argument for the European Union to develop its own strategic autonomy rather than automatically lending support to every Washington initiative. In this context it is telling that, according to a summary on the Russian‑language portal EADaily, the influential New York Times itself acknowledges a worrying trend of EU distrust of the U.S., and European politicians speak of a “shaky foundation” of transatlantic trust. It is now that many in Berlin and Paris recall how past American interventions produced long, painful consequences — and ask whether the same cycle is repeating in Latin America.

The Russian reaction to the Venezuelan campaign is far harsher and more ideologized. In the Russian information space the U.S. appears not just as a violator of sovereignty but as a consistent “architect of chaos.” In the chronicle “2026: Venezuela” it is emphasized that the day after the operation began protests in Europe were held in support of Venezuela, and the so‑called “Group of Friends in Defense of the UN Charter” condemned U.S. actions as aggression. This fits the Russian narrative about the need for a “multipolar world” and resistance to American hegemony: the Venezuelan episode is presented as proof that Washington still considers it acceptable to resolve issues by force when it comes to disloyal regimes. Many Russian commentators draw parallels between the capture of Maduro and earlier operations against leaders in Serbia, Iraq or Panama, arguing that America is sending a message to any country that tries to pursue a policy independent of it.

The Japanese conversation about America is more complex and calmer. Tokyo, unlike Moscow, views the U.S. as a vital ally in the face of a rising China and an unstable North Korea, so overtly antagonistic rhetoric is rare. Yet even in Japan discomfort is growing over the unpredictability of Washington in the “Trump 2.0” era. An analytical commentary from the Japan Institute of International Affairs emphasizes that a dangerous narrative is forming in the world: the United States, by taking increasingly unilateral and sometimes abrupt steps, is perceived as a source of “uncertainty and chaos,” while China is trying to present itself as a guarantor of stability, multipolarity and development. As the Japanese author stresses, there are obvious weak points in that Chinese rhetoric — Beijing’s aggressive behavior toward neighbors and internal repression — but it is precisely American abrupt policy shifts and reduced participation in development programs, for example in USAID activities and Voice of America broadcasts, that create a “window of opportunity” for Beijing in the struggle for influence in countries of the global South. In this context the U.S. use of force against Venezuela and pressure on Iran are seen not in moralistic terms but as a strategic mistake: an ally on which Japan relies in security is rapidly eroding its own moral authority.

This anxiety is reinforced by the internal state of American politics. In the Japanese expert community, including publications from the Ministry of Finance and university centers, there is much discussion about the fragility of American democracy itself. One author, citing Pew Research Center data, notes that in February 2025 some 59% of adult Americans supported tougher deportations of people living in the country illegally, with 35% “strongly supporting” that policy. For the Japanese commentator this is not an abstract statistic but a symptom: even if such sentiments represent the “will of the median voter,” they do not necessarily align with the liberal‑democratic ideals the U.S. has used to justify its global leadership. Thus America’s internal drift toward tougher nationalism becomes a problem for its external image: allies must explain to their publics why they continue to rely on a partner whose practices toward migrants or protesters increasingly resemble those the U.S. criticizes in other regimes.

In Europe the theme of the democratic quality of American policy is discussed differently but with the same subtext. At the Munich Security Conference in February 2026 Europeans listened not only to Secretary of State Marco Rubio, who tried to reassure allies of a “renewed commitment to the transatlantic alliance” and praised NATO repeatedly while distancing himself from Donald Trump’s sharp attacks on the alliance. In the corridors there were loud voices of American Democrats — from California Governor Gavin Newsom to Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio‑Cortez — urging Europe to “stop catering to Trump’s whims” and “not pretend his actions are rational.” In a piece in the British The Guardian that resonated across German and wider European press, Newsom compared Europeans’ attitude toward Trump to “humiliation,” and Senator Ruben Gallego said the president was “destroying the world authority” of the U.S. For a European audience this is a double signal: on the one hand, America still produces politicians capable of openly criticizing their own president on the international stage; on the other, the very need for such statements highlights that the transatlantic partner has become unstable.

Russian analysis of U.S.‑European frictions, including on EADaily, presents this as a “split in the West.” In a news roundup from February 14 the emphasis is on theses that EU trust in the U.S. has “wobbled,” and that Washington, by pressuring Kyiv, sends “signals about compromises,” effectively pushing Ukraine toward concessions in exchange for security. The tone matters here: while the European and partly Japanese press sees this as a dramatic but rational search for an exit from a protracted war, Russian commentators describe what is happening as confirmation of their long‑held belief — that the U.S. has never acted in the interests of Ukrainians, treating them only as an instrument of pressure on Moscow. In that narrative any U.S. steps toward negotiations or peace are presented as cynical bargaining.

In Japanese discussions of Ukraine the U.S. also figures, but the emphases are different. For Tokyo the main concern is not American cynicism but the risk that domestic American wavering on the Ukrainian question could become a prologue to similar exhaustion of commitments in Asia. If Washington at some point decides it is “too costly” to contain Russia or Iran, might the same happen regarding China if tensions around Taiwan, the Senkaku Islands or the South China Sea escalate? Japanese analysts discussing “Trump 2.0” write directly that every sharp presidential remark about “freeloaders” in NATO or the commercialization of alliances places a heavy burden on Japan’s strategic calculations: betting on the U.S. as a security guarantor is increasingly risky — but there is no alternative yet.

Finally, inside Russia American domestic policy is mainly viewed through the prism of external conflicts. The left‑radical site World Socialist Web Site analyzed in detail a New York Times article about the covert role of the U.S. in the Ukrainian war, noting that Washington is, in essence, conducting a “proxy war” against Russia, consistently pushing Kyiv toward ever‑broader mobilization. The Russian retelling emphasizes phrases about how American generals and Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin demanded “engaging 18‑year‑olds” and “expanding the draft,” concluding that this is not a war for Ukraine’s survival but a “war of the U.S. and NATO,” where Ukrainians are used as cannon fodder. In Russian eyes this resonates with U.S. actions in Venezuela and pressure on Iran: all three fronts illustrate the “imperialist nature” of Washington, ready to pay with others’ lives to preserve its dominance.

Against this background the intensifying U.S.‑Iran confrontation is seen as another flashpoint for a potential large war. The Japanese paper World Times, in an article about how “the elections in Iran and the U.S. are changing the world,” notes that after the crackdown on anti‑government protests in Iran the only power actively calling on Tehran to exercise restraint has been the U.S., while simultaneously increasing its military presence — dispatching carrier strike groups and air defense systems to Iran’s shores. Russian news agencies add in their briefs that President Trump announced the imminent dispatch of a second carrier strike group to Iran’s coasts, and that American diplomats and business emissaries such as Whitkoff and Kushner are participating in back‑channel contacts with the Iranian side in Geneva. For Japanese military experts this is a classic example of “diplomacy on the brink”: the U.S. is keeping negotiation channels open while raising the stakes through military pressure, which psychologically and politically increases the risk of accidental escalation.

German and European commentators, following the Iran story, tie it to a general fatigue with conflicts in the Middle East — from Iraq to Gaza. Here American policy is judged not only as immoral but also as ineffective: a series of military campaigns and sanctions over the past twenty years has not brought the region closer to stability. Nevertheless, European governments, dependent on American security guarantees and intelligence, are reluctant to sharply distance themselves, limiting themselves to cautious criticism of Washington’s rhetoric and calls for a “diplomatic solution.” This gap between words and deeds, as observers such as a Time analyst covering Marco Rubio’s Munich speech note, contains the current European dilemma: trust in the U.S. is weakening, but the EU is not yet prepared to disengage.

Taken together the picture looks like this: Japan, Germany and Russia view the same U.S. actions through different prisms but see something similar — a combination of enormous military and economic power increasingly at odds with a changing world and its own democratic ideals. For the Russian elite and a sizable part of society this is a convenient confirmation of their long‑held thesis about the “decline of American hegemony” and the need to rely on alternative centers of power. For Japanese strategists it is a painful reminder that a vital ally has become less predictable and less morally convincing, yet remains indispensable. For European publics it is a growing reason to doubt that Washington always knows what it is doing and that following it automatically means being “on the right side of history.”

And perhaps that is the main novelty of the current moment: criticism of the U.S. no longer comes only from Moscow, Caracas or Tehran. It is growing in Tokyo and Berlin too, albeit in a much milder, more rationalized form. America is still the center of the world system — but fewer countries are willing to perceive its actions as an unquestionable good.

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How the World Argues with America: Ukraine Peace, Nuclear Ceiling and a New "Cold" Line of...

At the beginning of 2026, the attention of a significant part of the world is again focused on the United States—not on internal American debates, but on how Donald Trump’s new administration is reshaping the global security architecture. In Russia, South Africa and Turkey several key storylines are being discussed at once: the Washington‑imposed peace plan for Ukraine, the expiration of the New START (SNV‑III) treaty and the future of nuclear deterrence, the U.S. shift of focus from Europe to Asia and to its own borders, and U.S. pressure on Global South states, above all South Africa, for its orientation toward BRICS and “multi‑vector” policy. Through the prism of these themes local narratives are constructed about what modern America is: a security guarantor or a source of instability, a partner or a hegemon.

The first major storyline is the American peace plan for Ukraine, which in Moscow, Ankara and partly in Pretoria is viewed as Washington’s attempt to end a protracted war on terms that primarily benefit the United States. Russian analytical platforms are dissecting the content of the American memorandum in detail: territorial and financial concessions by Kyiv, limits on the size of the Ukrainian armed forces, Ukraine’s renunciation of NATO membership in exchange for certain “security guarantees,” and the phased lifting of sanctions on Russia as negotiations progress. A number of Russian media outlets emphasize that the Trump administration is, in effect, imposing deadlines on Kyiv and pressuring Europeans to accept a “realistic” settlement that openly acknowledges the impossibility of returning Ukraine to its 2014 borders. As U.S. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth said at a Ramstein‑format meeting, “pursuing this illusory goal will only prolong the war” — a phrase that Russian press eagerly quotes as an admission of Washington’s de facto abandonment of some Ukrainian claims. (rbc.ru)

An important element of perception in Russia is the conviction that the U.S. is, above all, “talking” to Europe and Kyiv—telling them what they “should and should not do”—and only then offering something to Moscow. In an interview with Gazeta.Ru, U.S. affairs specialist Rafael Ordukhanyan skeptically comments on the logic of the plan itself: criticism of a “legally murky” territorial formula, distrust of American guarantees, and the thesis that Washington is changing position driven not by principles but by tactical considerations. Such skepticism is presented as reflecting historical experience: from NATO expansion despite Russian warnings to the U.S.’s unilateral withdrawal from missile defense and INF treaties. (gazeta.ru)

The Turkish discussion about the same plan follows a somewhat different logic. For leading publications and TV channels—from Euronews Turkish to Anadolu Ajansı—the key question is whether the American “peace formula” will cement the de facto partition of Ukraine and recognize Crimea and parts of Donbass as Russian, and whether it will create a dangerous precedent for revising borders by force. Turkish media relay leaks about Trump’s supposed 28‑point plan, which Axios reported may include provisions recognizing Russian jurisdiction over Crimea and parts of Donbass and a sharp reduction of Ukrainian armed forces. It is noted that Kyiv, according to sources, “objects to many points” and perceives the document as imposed from outside rather than produced in an equal dialogue. (aa.com.tr)

At the same time another line runs through Turkish commentary—the fear of a “frozen” conflict. Euronews materials emphasize that one likely variant of the plan is the effective freezing of the war, leaving disputed territories in a state of uncertainty while Ukraine is given certain guarantees against a new Russian attack. Turkish analysts remind audiences that “frozen conflicts” in the post‑Soviet space have repeatedly been used by Russia as a lever of influence, and they ask whether Ukraine will end up as another “gray belt” between NATO and Russia, with a constant risk of escalation. For a country that itself balances between Russia and NATO and has unresolved territorial disputes, this aspect is extremely sensitive. (tr.euronews.com)

Russian and Turkish narratives intersect in their perception of the American approach as distinctly transactional. For Moscow the emphasis is on sanctions and the fate of Russian assets: in the initial version of the plan a significant portion of frozen funds was proposed to be redistributed through a joint American‑Russian fund; later this construction began to be adjusted, and Trump himself acknowledged the matter remained unresolved. Russian commentators see not so much an attempt at fair settlement as Washington’s attempt to “monetize” the war—controlling financial flows for reconstruction while using sanctions as leverage. (rbc.ru)

In Turkey the focus shifts to how the American line on Ukraine fits into a wider package of demands on Ankara: from sanctions on Russia to limits on cooperation in energy and defense industries. Turkish observers stress that Washington, on the one hand, demands greater responsibility from NATO allies for Ukraine’s security, while on the other hand is itself reducing its military presence in Europe and shifting strategic priority toward containing China and protecting its own borders—a shift the U.S. Secretary of Defense spoke about candidly in Brussels. Such imbalance between expectations and U.S. contribution creates in Turkey a persistent feeling that Ankara and European allies must “pay” for Washington’s strategic maneuvers. (rbc.ru)

The second major storyline, where reactions from Russia, Turkey and South Africa unexpectedly converge, is the February 5, 2026 expiration of the New START (SNV‑III) treaty and the discussion of prospects for a new nuclear agreement between Moscow and Washington. In Russian media this date is presented as a milestone: for the first time in decades the world will be without formal limits on the strategic arsenals of the two largest nuclear powers. Kommersant relays the concerns of Democratic Congressman John Garamendi, quoted by Politico, that the disappearance of predictability in this area could lead to a new arms race. But Russian experts, such as Aleksey Arbatov, are skeptical: in their assessment, concluding a full new treaty now is politically and technically impossible; at best there could be a joint political statement about a willingness to remain within the SNV‑III limits until a new document appears. (rbc.ru)

At the same time state agencies emphasize that the initiative to extend key limits for at least a year came from Vladimir Putin in the autumn of 2025, but “the U.S. administration did not give an official response,” and Trump stated his intention to conclude in the future a “better agreement” with China’s involvement. Against this background White House spokeswoman Karoline Levitt’s early‑February 2026 statement about the U.S. being ready to discuss a new nuclear treaty with Russia is presented by the Russian press as a belated reaction driven less by concerns for strategic stability than by Washington’s fear for its international image as a country that has “let go” of nuclear control. (rosmedia.info)

Interestingly, in Turkey the New START topic is almost not discussed directly—the Turkish public is more occupied with the consequences of a possible new arms race for regional security and the nuclear status of players such as Israel and Iran. But indirectly the treaty’s expiration is reflected in a growing number of pieces about the likelihood of a “third world” war within the next five years and the risk of nuclear weapon use, which actively cite Western polls and analysts. Turkish Sputnik, citing a Public First study in the U.S., Canada and Western Europe, emphasizes that nearly half of Americans, Britons and French believe a major war is likely within five years, and at least a third of populations in these countries consider the use of nuclear weapons possible. For Turkish discourse this is further evidence that the “nuclear nerve” of the world system is being exposed precisely because of the actions and rhetoric of Washington and its allies. (anlatilaninotesi.com.tr)

South African commentators view the expiration of New START and a possible new U.S.‑Russia deal through the lens of global inequality in security. In BRICS and Global South‑oriented analyses it is emphasized that the two powers, possessing the overwhelming majority of strategic warheads, continue to see themselves as an exclusive “club” and are not ready to seriously discuss universal, non‑discriminatory mechanisms of nuclear disarmament. For the South African establishment, drawing on the country’s anti‑apartheid struggle and participation in the Non‑Aligned Movement, this fits into a broader narrative: the U.S. and Russia are willing to make deals among themselves about the rules of the game, but are not willing to change an architecture where their arsenals remain “legitimate” and other countries’ ambitions are suppressed.

The third key motif is the transformation of the U.S. role in Europe and the parallel tightening of screws in relations with the Global South, especially South Africa. In Russia the Pentagon chief’s statement that “harsh strategic realities do not allow the United States to focus primarily on European security” and that Washington’s priority is now containing China and protecting its own borders is presented as confirmation of a long‑articulated Russian thesis: the U.S. is no longer ready to bear the lion’s share of responsibility for European security and is shifting the burden to its allies. Hence Trump’s demand that NATO countries raise military spending to 5% of GDP, which Russian press describes as a de facto coercion of Europe into militarization for Washington’s interests. (rbc.ru)

Turkey feels this pressure practically: it is expected simultaneously to show loyalty to NATO, participate in Black Sea security, and accept the American view on Ukraine and the Middle East. Turkish economic and political outlets analyze how the U.S. shift of priority to the Indo‑Pacific region and to its own borders increases Ankara’s need for autonomous defense and foreign policy, including development of its own defense industry and unconventional cooperation formats with Russia, Qatar or China. Against this background the U.S. is increasingly described not as an “umbrella of security” but as a factor of uncertainty: Washington can abruptly change course depending on domestic political conjuncture, leaving allies to deal with the consequences.

In South Africa such a turn is perceived even more painfully. The current escalation with the U.S. is linked not to Ukraine but to how Washington reacts to Pretoria’s foreign policy toward BRICS, Israel and domestic reforms. Mail & Guardian and other South African outlets emphasize that with Trump’s return to the White House in January 2025 relations with the U.S. sharply deteriorated—from freezing PEPFAR assistance to threats of sanctions over land reform and a case against Israel at the International Court of Justice. Mineral Resources Minister Gwede Mantashe even proposed reviewing mineral exports to the U.S. in response to American measures. (mg.co.za)

By early 2026 tensions had only increased. Republican Senator James Risch in a barbed post called the ruling ANC’s foreign policy “hostile to U.S. interests” because of joint naval exercises with China, Russia and Iran off the coast of Cape Town and said that “any promise of this government to Washington is meaningless when its actions signal open hostility to the United States,” calling for “tougher measures” against Pretoria. South African outlet The Common Sense interprets this remark as a warning: the status of trade partner and preferential regimes (primarily AGOA) may be subject to reassessment if South Africa continues to insist on “non‑alignment” while effectively moving closer to BRICS+. (thecommonsense.co.za)

At the same time South African press and academic circles reflect on the episode of the G20 summit in Johannesburg in November 2025, which the U.S. effectively boycotted, as a moment of truth in relations with Washington. Le Monde Africa and the blog Africa at LSE describe how the Trump administration tried to undermine South Africa’s presidency by accusing the country of “genocide of white farmers” and reducing its representation to the level of chargé d’affaires, while Pretoria attempted to advance a Global South agenda—combating the climate crisis, gender equality, and reform of global debt governance. Ultimately the U.S. effectively ceded symbolic leadership space to other players, and South Africa concluded that in a world of “polycrisis” and multiple centers of power it is impossible to rely solely on Washington. (lemonde.fr)

Against this background interest in BRICS as an alternative or at least a compensatory format is growing in South Africa. In speeches by trade union representatives, such as Zanele Sabela of the largest union COSATU, the U.S. is described as part of an “aggressive global North” using tariff wars and “green protectionism” to protect its own interests at the expense of Global South countries. BRICS is presented less as an anti‑American bloc than as a platform to reduce vulnerability to decisions by the Fed and other Western central banks—through development of national‑currency settlements and strengthening regional cooperation. However even moderate commentators warn that excessive confrontation with the U.S. carries real risks: from 30% tariffs to restricted access to the American market and investment. (rt.com)

For Turkey BRICS is so far more an observed than lived reality, but the American factor is felt there as well. Turkish analysts closely monitor Trump’s threats to BRICS members discussing dedollarization. Publications like Geopolitical Economy Report stress the paradox: the harsher the American rhetoric about “economic war” against countries seeking to move away from the dollar, the more these countries tend to rally around China rather than Washington. For Turkey, which balances the desire to keep access to Western markets with the wish to reduce dollar dependence, American policy is seen as a push toward multi‑format engagement: from strengthening trilateral schemes with Russia and Qatar to interest in cooperation with the BRICS New Development Bank. (livemint.com)

Finally, the fourth thematic layer is the economic dimension of American policy, which in Turkey and South Africa is perceived as sharply as the military one. Turkish business media—from Dünya to Investing.com Turkish—analyze in detail the consequences of U.S. fiscal and trade policy for global markets. Deutsche Bank Research, for example, forecasts a relative stabilization of the U.S. economy in 2026 after a “turbulent” 2025, which Turkish analysts take as a signal: despite tariff wars and political risks, the American market still sets the tone for global capital flows. At the same time some columnists emphasize that Trump’s promised domestic tax cuts and low internal tariffs contrast with his aggressive external trade measures, which are painful for intermediate economies like Turkey’s that depend on access to both American and European markets. (tr.investing.com)

South African observers, for their part, note how American tariffs and threats of sanctions are forcing Pretoria to seek new markets and boost intra‑African trade through mechanisms like the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA). Henley & Partners and RT Africa materials stress the dual nature of the moment: on one hand South Africa has become a target of U.S. pressure—from frozen participation in some formats to increased duties; on the other hand this has incentivized economic reorientation, reducing dependence on the dollar and the U.S. and strengthening ties with other countries on the continent and with BRICS+. As one Russian Africa expert notes, “the South African economy will likely emerge from the crisis with reduced dependence on the American market.” For part of South African society this sounds like a welcome step toward sovereignty; for others it is a risk of losing an important source of investment and high‑tech imports. (rt.com)

Bringing these threads together, one can see the overall picture of how the U.S. is perceived today from Moscow, Ankara and Pretoria. For Russia Washington remains the main strategic opponent, but at the same time an indispensable partner on nuclear stability and the key architect of a Ukrainian settlement. Any American initiative is automatically viewed through the prism of historical grievances and suspicions, but is also analyzed in detail—from the composition of sanctions to the structure of the peace plan. For Turkey the U.S. is a powerful but increasingly unpredictable ally: a country whose decisions on Ukraine, NATO and the Middle East directly affect Ankara’s vital interests, but whose strategic priority is shifting to Asia, leaving Turkey in a complex position as a regional “pillar” without a guaranteed rear. For South Africa America is simultaneously the largest trading partner and a source of political pressure, a country whose support in health and investment matters is vital, but whose readiness to punish “wrong” foreign policy and domestic reforms is perceived as a continuation of neocolonial practices.

In all three contexts a growing drive for autonomy is striking. Russia speaks of the need for a multipolar world and demonstrates readiness to live without formal agreements with the U.S., relying on unilateral statements. Turkey is building up its own defense industry and trying to pursue “strategic autonomy,” navigating between blocs. South Africa speaks of “non‑alignment,” but in practice is betting on BRICS+ and African integration. Paradoxically, it is American policy—be it ultimatums on Ukraine, refusal to extend New START without new conditions, or tariff pressure on partners—that in large part accelerates processes that Washington often perceives as challenges to its leadership: regionalization, dedollarization, and strengthening of alternative formats.

In Moscow, Ankara and Pretoria today the debate is not about whether they need America—there is almost no doubt about that—but about how to live with it: how to turn asymmetric dependence into a more equal interaction, how to make Washington take into account the interests of other centers of power. Unlike the view familiar to an American reader, in which the U.S. is the center of the world stage, in these three countries an increasingly different picture is being drawn: a world where Washington is one of several strong actors—not the only one—and where its decisions meet not only criticism but real alternatives.

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How America Is Reshaping the World: Taiwan, Iran and the "War for Minerals" Through the Eyes of China,...

In mid‑February 2026 the United States unexpectedly looks like not one narrative but three at once: a tough financial‑diplomatic "umbrella" over Taiwan, a nervous game with Iran, and a major overhaul of supply chains for strategically critical resources. In Beijing, Jerusalem and Canberra these are not seen as disconnected episodes but as elements of a single attempt by Washington to rewrite the rules of the global game. Yet the tone and emphases in these three capitals differ sharply.

The strongest resonance in recent days was caused by a new bill in the U.S. House of Representatives — the PROTECT Taiwan Act. The document, passed in the lower chamber by an almost consensual vote of 395–2, prescribes that if China’s actions are deemed by Washington to threaten Taiwan’s security, social fabric or economic system, the United States should "to the maximum extent practicable" seek to exclude China from key financial clubs — from the G20 to the Basel Committee, the FSB and IOSCO. The Taipei Times, for example, writes about this in detail, emphasizing that this is a preannounced package of sanctions rather than a reactive, after‑the‑fact measure. (taipeitimes.com)

In Beijing this initiative was immediately written into a broader sequence of American steps to "contain China." For some time now, China’s MFA official materials have described the United States as a country that "in the name of preserving hegemony" abuses sanctions and administrative pressure against Chinese companies. (fmprc.gov.cn) Now, as a fresh weekly review by the China Council for the Promotion of International Trade (CCPIT) notes, a new element has been added to this package — the "United States Critical Minerals Supply Assurance Act" passed by the House on February 11. The text explicitly states that one of the goals of creating a strategic reserve and building a new supply system is to weaken China’s dominance in the global supply chain for critical minerals. (zh.wikipedia.org)

It is precisely this linkage — financial pressure through the PROTECT Taiwan Act and resource pressure through the minerals law — that defines the current tone of Chinese commentary about America. In a recent issue of CCPIT’s "weekly warning," yuan and business terminology sit alongside geopolitics: the body explicitly warns provincial companies that the new congressional mineral initiative is "aimed at undermining Chinese leadership" in key segments of commodity chains and that Chinese exporters should prepare for tougher barriers in the U.S. market. (ccpitjs.org)

At the political level the picture is even harsher. In publications of huaqiao media and pro‑China diaspora platforms in the U.S., the PROTECT Taiwan Act is described in the simplest terms: "kick China out" of the G20 and other venues if Beijing "dares to move" on Taiwan. (news.creaders.net) This is presented not as an abstract act of defending democracy but as an attempt to institutionalize economic strangulation of China in advance. Not coincidentally, Chinese diplomacy elsewhere has increasingly warned that U.S. interference in the "Taiwan question" could lead to direct confrontation: a recent example is Wang Yi’s February 14 speech, in which he accused Washington of attempting to "split China through Taiwan" and warned of the risk of a clash. (timesofindia.indiatimes.com)

Within this logic many analysts in the PRC fall back on a familiar schema: America is not an arbiter but an active actor using Taiwan as a lever to strangle China while simultaneously restructuring the energy and raw‑materials architecture to its own advantage. For the domestic audience this is presented as yet more proof that any concessions by Beijing will be interpreted in Washington as an invitation to further pressure.

The same steps are seen very differently in Israel, where American policy is viewed through the prism of two narratives: Iran and Gaza. Israeli media coverage is dominated not by Taiwan sanctions but by the meetings between Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu in Washington. The Associated Press describes their three‑hour conversation at the White House as an attempt to synchronize positions on the Iranian nuclear deal: Trump stressed that he "insisted" on continuing talks and said he preferred a deal to a forceful scenario, while at the same time being ready for "serious consequences" if negotiations fail. (apnews.com) For the Israeli audience this sounds ambivalent: on the one hand, continued negotiations with Tehran arouse suspicion; on the other, the promise of tough consequences, reinforced by discussion of deploying a second aircraft carrier off Iran’s coast, fits the image of a "tough but controlled" Washington. (washingtonpost.com)

Against this backdrop, the left‑liberal criticism of U.S. policy voiced at the Munich conference by Alexandria Ocasio‑Cortez is perceived in Israel almost as an internal American drama. The congresswoman, speaking on a panel, said directly that unconditional U.S. military aid "has contributed to genocide in Gaza" and that the next Democratic candidate must reassess the principles of supporting Israel, relying on laws like the Leahy Law that bar assistance to units implicated in gross human‑rights violations. (theguardian.com)

Israeli commentators do not read this as an immediate threat to supplies but as a symptom of a long‑term shift in American public opinion: support for Israel in the U.S. is increasingly becoming an intraparty dispute among Democrats, which means the durability of an "automatic" pro‑Israel course in Washington is no longer self‑evident. Meanwhile, when the White House publicly opposes a new Israeli plan to strengthen control over the West Bank out of concern for the prospects of a two‑state solution, the Israeli right‑wing press sees this as a continuation of "liberal pressure," whereas centrists note that even the pro‑Netanyahu Trump administration is forced to constrain Israeli expansion so as not to undermine its own initiatives on Gaza and Iran. (theguardian.com)

Thus, where Beijing speaks of the U.S. as a systemic adversary building financial and resource traps around China, Israeli discourse focuses on the dilemma: how reliable is American "umbrella" protection against Iran and how far are the U.S. willing to go in criticizing and constraining Israeli actions in Palestine without destroying the strategic alliance.

Australia views America from a third, thoroughly pragmatic angle — as the core of an emerging "minerals coalition" of the West. Canberra has found itself at the center of discussions about the very critical minerals law that in China is perceived as a blow to their dominance. Australian press and expert forums emphasize opportunity rather than threat: ABC Chinese reports that around twenty countries — the U.S., the EU, Japan, Australia and others — are preparing to create a "strategic alliance on critical minerals," and Australia is simultaneously establishing its own strategic reserve worth AUD 1.2 billion. The focus is on gallium, antimony and rare earths, where China’s dominance in processing reaches 85–95%. (discoveryalert.com.au)

Australian analysts explain directly to their readers that recent crises — from U.S. auto plants stopping for lack of rare‑earth products to the collapse in prices for cobalt, nickel and lithium under Chinese dumping pressure — have exposed the West’s vulnerability to Beijing’s resource policy. In one piece in the China‑Australia outlet AusChinaDaily, startling figures are cited: a nearly 60% crash in cobalt prices, more than 70% in nickel, and an 86% drop in lithium, which made many projects in the U.S. and Australia economically unviable, while Chinese state‑owned companies could afford aggressive margin cuts to control the market. (auschinadaily.com)

Against this background the U.S. "Critical Minerals Supply Assurance Act," described in Chinese documents as "a strike at PRC leadership," is in Canberra perceived as a long‑awaited signal: the U.S. is finally institutionalizing demand and is willing to invest in infrastructure, making Australian projects less risky. In expert circles this is interpreted as Washington’s attempt to exit a state of "strategic vulnerability," where import dependence for dozens of minerals reaches 100% and China controls not only extraction but processing. (zh.wikipedia.org)

Interestingly, Chinese and Australian discourses here are mirror images: some talk about the loss of levers of influence, others about liberation from blackmail. When ABC Chinese reports that around twenty countries are preparing to build a common alliance around the U.S. to reduce dependence on Chinese supplies, this is presented as a logical response to years of "economic coercion" and export restrictions from Beijing. In China the same steps are recorded as a hostile coalition around the U.S. seeking to "artificially cut off" China from added value in global chains. (abc.net.au)

At the intersection of these three lines — Taiwan, Iran and critical minerals — another common theme emerges that is not obvious in American news but sounds clearly in local commentary: an armed conflict involving the U.S. now almost automatically implies a financial and resource war. Taiwanese politician Chen Guanting, in a column for Vision Times, calls the PROTECT Taiwan Act "the institutionalization of consequences": if China decides to attack, planners should from day one account not only for military but also catastrophic financial costs — exclusion from key institutions, disruption of access to payment systems, capital and technologies. (visiontimes.com)

Australian analysts say the same in the resource dimension: control over processing and strategic reserves becomes an instrument of containment and punishment comparable in force to traditional sanctions. Chinese documents on critical minerals, conversely, stress that the U.S. is "politicizing and instrumentalizing" global supply chains, turning them into an extension of geopolitical confrontation. (ccpitjs.org)

Finally, the image of America as a political system is perceived differently across these debates. In Chinese public space materials are widely cited that present the U.S.’s domestic crises — from polarization to spikes in violence — as symptoms of the "decline" of the American model and its aggressive projection of conflicts outward through trade wars and sanctions. (zh.wikipedia.org) In Israel attention is fixed on how internal debates, such as Ocasio‑Cortez’s Munich speech, might translate into a reassessment of traditional alliances, first and foremost with Israel. (theguardian.com) In Australia, by contrast, U.S. instability is precisely what pushes the elite to accelerate institutionalized cooperation — through formal alliances, commitments and long‑term commodity and defense agreements — to minimize the risks of policy shifts after another American electoral cycle. (abc.net.au)

Put together, these divergent views produce an American portrait not found on American covers. For Beijing, the U.S. is the architect of a sanctions and resource cage around China, using Taiwan as a central node of pressure and trying to wrest from the PRC levers of influence in energy and technology. For Israel, America is simultaneously an indispensable guarantor against Iran and an increasingly unpredictable political partner whose domestic polarization is projected onto the Middle East. For Australia, the United States is a heavy but necessary leader in attempts to build an "anti‑China" infrastructure for critical minerals on which the economic and defense security of the entire West now depends.

The common denominator is one: in the eyes of other capitals America is ceasing to be simply the "global policeman" or the "market of last resort." It is becoming the creator of a complex architecture of financial, technological and resource linkages, where every congressional decision — from the PROTECT Taiwan Act to the critical minerals law — is instantly read as a signal of who will stand on one side of the next crisis line and who on the other. That is how Washington is viewed today in Beijing, Jerusalem and Canberra — and that is why any new U.S. moves will be analyzed not only for their immediate objective but as another brick in the changing foundation of the world order.

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"Greenland, Racism and 'Donloroism': How the World Sees Trump's America Today"

At the beginning of 2026 the United States once again became the main generator of global headlines — and not only because of the economy or technology. Donald Trump's second term, his racist video about the Obama family, a new "battle for Greenland" and the threat of tariff wars with Europe, a shift in U.S. global strategy and a revived spirit of the Monroe Doctrine — all these narrative threads have intertwined in perceptions of America in France, South Korea and Turkey. Across the ocean people simultaneously see a superpower and a country sliding toward oligarchic authoritarianism; an indispensable ally and an impulsive hegemon that wields tariffs and military power as levers of personal influence.

The biggest shared nerve in many discussions is the figure of Trump himself and the internal state of American democracy. In the French media agenda his return to the White House is described as a year "under high tension": investigative outlet Mediapart analyzes how the Trump administration in one year built its own propaganda infrastructure, attacking traditional media and undermining independent fact‑checking, and speaks directly of a "storming of the constitutional order," long tilted in favor of oligarchy. Their piece "Trump à la Maison‑Blanche : un an sous haute tension" emphasizes that the information space in the U.S. of 2026 "has nothing in common" with 2016 or even 2020, and that the president is systematically weakening the courts, Congress and the press as checks on power. It is through this lens that French observers view Washington's foreign policy — as a continuation of the domestic struggle for power, not as a rational strategy. (mediapart.fr)

A second surge of attention was caused by a scandalous video in February that Trump posted on his network Truth Social: it depicted Barack and Michelle Obama as apes — an obvious reference to the colonial racist trope of dehumanizing people of African descent. The French‑language Wikipedia entry, followed by analytical columns in the European press, recounts the scandal in detail: international criticism, accusations of racism, Trump's attempt to justify himself by saying he is "the least racist president." From the perspective of European commentators several layers converge here: the degradation of political discourse in the U.S., the normalization of racist imagery, and a crisis of America's moral leadership. Many Francophone authors compare this episode to the past image of Washington as a defender of human rights and ask: can a country whose head of state publishes such videos continue to teach others about democracy and anti‑racism? (fr.wikipedia.org)

Against this background the French economic and foreign‑policy debate about the U.S. has grown harsher and more pragmatic. Economists at BNP Paribas in one of their recent notes warn that America's fiscal trajectory under Trump — with a deficit of more than 6% of GDP by 2025 and debt at historic highs by the end of the decade — is itself a source of global instability. They list the risks from the tandem "Trump–Bessent" intending to extend tax breaks while simultaneously waging tariff wars with partners, and essentially tell European readers: the "privilege of the dollar" allows the U.S. to postpone the reckoning, but does not cancel it. This economic distrust merges with political distrust — Trump, many French commentators believe, takes advantage of the world's dependence on the dollar and American markets to act increasingly unilaterally. (economic-research.bnpparibas.com)

The culmination of European irritation came with the January events around Greenland. The French right‑wing press, notably Le Figaro, describes an emergency meeting of EU ambassadors in Brussels as a "moment of truth": a year after Trump's return to the White House Europe found itself precisely where it feared — under the threat of new duties used as leverage over sovereignty. French and European experts put the question bluntly: can the U.S. legally differentiate tariffs within the EU at all, and doesn't the transatlantic alliance risk turning into an "asymmetric dependence" where Washington punishes unilaterally not only adversaries but allies as well. (kiosque.lefigaro.fr)

If in the French perspective the "battle for Greenland" is above all a test of European sovereignty, in South Korea it is integrated into a broader conversation about "donloroism" — a new, Trumpian version of the old Monroe Doctrine. As early as 2025 the Korean business press coined this neologism ("donloro주의", from "Donald" and "Monroe"), describing Trump's program: ousting European influence from the Western Hemisphere, buying the Panama Canal, renaming the Gulf of Mexico "the American Gulf," and now — legally and militarily cementing a special status for the U.S. in Greenland. In a large overview the Korea Economic Daily writes bluntly that what a year ago seemed fantastical has "lit an alarming siren" — Trump not only threatens with force but is actually building economic and military mechanisms to implement this new doctrine. The authors link this to the operation to arrest Nicolás Maduro in Venezuela and to statements about possible intervention in Iran — all fitting the logic "Western Hemisphere — a zone of exclusive U.S. interests; others — stay away." (hankyung.com)

South Korean analysts, however, view "Greenland" not as a local U.S.–EU dispute but as a precedent for the entire military and trade order. Korea Economic Daily reports list how Trump threatened to impose 10% tariffs from February 1, 2026 and 25% from June 1 on goods from eight European countries that sent troops or ships to Greenland, and how then, within days after talks with NATO Secretary‑General Mark Rutte and a speech at the Davos forum, he suddenly "took his finger off the trigger," saying he "got everything he wanted." In an interview with CNBC he boasts that under the future agreement the U.S. and Europe will cooperate on the "golden dome" — a new missile‑defense system — and on rights to Arctic mineral extraction. South Korean commentators see a familiar tactic: escalate threats, create a "trade catastrophe" as background, then sell a deal as an enormous victory. They transfer this pattern to Asia as a warning: if Washington treats Europe this way, there is no reason to think it will be gentler with its Asian allies. (hankyung.com)

At the same time Seoul is closely analyzing the economic consequences of the Greenland crisis. In Korean morning analytical digests, alongside Dow Jones and S&P figures, lines now appear saying that "Greenland" could reduce global growth to 2.6% — the lowest since the financial crisis — that gold and silver are hitting new highs as "safe havens," and that European indices are slipping. Korean columns also relay warnings from Western banks that by 2027 the Fed may raise rates again, increasing pressure on emerging markets. In this context the U.S. is increasingly perceived less as a source of stable demand and more as a geopolitical and financial risk factor to be hedged against in advance. (eureka.hankyung.com)

The Turkish debate is somewhat shifted: there the U.S. is seen primarily through the prism of strategic competition with China and the transformation of America's role in the world. One notable column in Yeni Şafak, close to the conservative government, analyzes the new U.S. National Security Strategy published at the end of 2025 as a signal of a "recoil" from years of global engagement. The author emphasizes that a Washington frightened of "losing a ruinous rivalry with China" is refusing to treat Beijing as an "existential enemy" and is trying to recast it as an "economic competitor" to avoid the logic of total confrontation. In the Turkish reading this is not a humanitarian gesture but a pragmatic attempt to avoid the fate of the British Empire, which was exhausted by two world wars and lost its global role. (yenisafak.com)

From this same logic Turkish commentators draw an important conclusion: if the U.S. objectively becomes more "regional" and more inward‑looking, this will open space for maneuver for countries like Turkey that wish to expand autonomy. Commentators draw parallels with the Monroe Doctrine: in the 19th century America declared the Western Hemisphere its zone of exclusive interests; now, under "donloroism," Washington is reducing unnecessary fronts and concentrating on a few key theaters — the Arctic, the Western Hemisphere, the Persian Gulf. In this scenario Ankara sees both risks and opportunities: on the one hand, less direct American military presence could mean a vacuum and new local wars; on the other hand, Turkey could more aggressively advance its regional ambitions in the Eastern Mediterranean, the Caucasus and the Black Sea, navigating between the U.S., Russia and China.

Thus, in the three countries different but overlapping images of today’s United States are forming. In France Trump's America is above all a political and moral trial for Europe: racism at the level of the White House, contempt for international law in the Greenland case, use of tariffs as a cudgel against allies, growing deficits and debt that sooner or later could trigger a global crisis. Hence calls for "European strategic autonomy," a reevaluation of trade agreements, and in Emmanuel Macron's rhetoric — resistance to a "revival of imperial ambitions," which he mentioned in Davos while criticizing Washington's use of tariffs as leverage over territorial sovereignty. (hankyung.com)

In South Korea the U.S. is seen both as a defender and as a potentially dangerous populist hegemon. There they watch closely how "donloroism" shifts the balance in the Western Hemisphere and the Atlantic, but more importantly what it implies for Washington's future policy toward China and the Korean Peninsula. For Seoul Trump is a leader who readily resorts to "tariff bombs" and threats of force, and then just as readily declares any deal "the greatest victory." This breeds anxiety: from nuclear deterrence to semiconductors — too much of Korean security and the economy depends on predictability in American policy, which is clearly lacking today.

In Turkey the overall motif is different: the U.S. is perceived as a tired but still enormously powerful empire trying to reformat its role so as not to repeat the British collapse. The change in China's status — from "existential threat" to "economic competitor" — is seen by Turkish commentators as part of a broader restructuring in which NATO and European allies become instruments of indirect influence for Washington rather than objects of protection. For Ankara this is an opportunity that must be seized, but also a signal: the world is entering a period of prolonged and dangerous turbulence in which America can no longer be taken merely as an "anchor of stability."

The common denominator of these three lenses is that the U.S. is seen less and less as the universal model of liberal democracy and more as one of the great powers with sharp internal contradictions, racial and institutional crises, and an increasingly aggressive use of economic and military levers. In French, South Korean and Turkish texts the same question echoes in different tones: can the United States, as it has become under a second Trump, be both an example and a guarantor of the international order? For now the answer is more often cautiously skeptical, and the practical conclusion is: one must know how to live and trade with America, but relying on it alone is increasingly risky.

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How the World Sees America: Elections, Tariffs and "White Genocide" in Japan, Korea and South...

At the start of 2026, conversations about the United States in Tokyo, Seoul and Pretoria carry surprisingly similar themes, although each country invests them with its own fears and expectations. On the surface, everyone is discussing the same things: Donald Trump’s second presidency, Washington’s sharp turn toward protectionism and unilateral diplomacy. But listening to local voices makes it clear that this is not just about a “Trump America,” but about a much deeper question: can the U.S. still be perceived as a predictable center of the world system, or is it already one among many poles that often act according to the logic of a short electoral cycle rather than long‑term alliances.

In Japanese debate, American policy is perceived primarily as a factor of economic and military security. Here Trump 2.0 is viewed through the lens of tariffs, supply chains and the Japan–U.S. military alliance. Economist Kiyoyuchi Nobuey of Nomura Research Institute (NRI), in a long interview about the world after the midterm and presidential elections, speaks of a “turning point,” when additional U.S. duties and political instability in Washington force Japanese business to radically rethink the structure of exports and production, diversify markets and stop relying on the old predictability of the U.S. He warns bluntly that under a protectionist White House Japan can no longer regard the American market as a guaranteed growth anchor, and must prepare for new waves of tariffs and pressure for bilateral deals on Washington’s terms — a shift that radically changes investor calculations and the strategies of large corporations. Analysts at JETRO, surveying American experts and looking at the issue from a more applied business angle, make similar points: in a second Trump term, former senior U.S. diplomat Larry Greenwood tells JETRO that Japan will need to account for the risk of new tariffs and the politicized use of trade instruments, which is already forcing Japanese firms to revise logistics and insure against risks by relocating production and changing the currency structure of their businesses.

But Japanese commentators view the U.S. not only as a market and security guarantor, but also as a political phenomenon. Research centers such as 日本国際問題研究所 and 日本国際フォーラム analyze the American elections as a symptom of changes in the nature of Western democracy itself. Professor Umekawa Ken of the University of Tokyo, analyzing the transformation of candidates in the American electoral process in a report for 日本国際問題研究所, speaks of the “democratization” of the procedure — an explosion in the number of participants and the simplification of nominations — but at the same time of a fall in the “qualitative bar” for contenders. In Japanese discourse this is often linked to the question: what does an alliance with a state mean when a system increasingly produces leaders who bet on polarization rather than consensus. Professor Okayama Yutaka of Keio, in his talk for 日本国際フォーラム, emphasizes that after the 2024 elections the U.S. two‑party system has entered a phase of hard ideological segregation, and Tokyo must plan relationships not only with the current administration but also with a potentially radically different government four years from now. This creates in the Japanese elite a feeling that the U.S. is no longer so much the “leader of the liberal order” as a large but internally unstable actor whose domestic dynamics directly affect regional security, including Taiwan and North Korea.

In South Korea, attention to the U.S. is more emotionally charged: American policy is perceived both as a vital military shield and as a source of chronic vulnerability. Korean columnists and experts discuss not only possible changes in tariffs or conditions of access for Korean goods to the U.S. market, but also the prospects for the presence of U.S. troops and “extended nuclear deterrence.” For the local audience the question is whether another outbreak of American isolationism might result in a deal with North Korea “over the heads of allies” — a fear that Seoul never forgot after the first Trump–Kim meetings. Korean newspaper columns and television debates regularly voice the idea that Washington increasingly views Northeast Asia through the prism of competition with China, rather than through the security of South Korea per se. Therefore some experts call to “hedge” — to develop their own defense capabilities, including discussions about a possible independent nuclear option, while simultaneously deepening ties with Japan and the EU so as not to be fully dependent on fluctuations in American policy.

Interestingly, in both Japan and South Korea American elections and domestic polarization in the U.S. are increasingly discussed comparatively: as a mirror of their own problems. Japanese authors in outlets like 朝日新聞 and on academic platforms of the University of Tokyo emphasize that the rise of populism in the U.S. is not an “American anomaly” but part of a global trend of crisis in party systems. In one column Professor Fujiiwara Kiichi of international politics, whose article on a possible “Trump return” the University of Tokyo summarized on its research center website, warned that if democratic procedures produce leaders willing to opt for military solutions, this reflects a societal demand rather than just the charisma of individual politicians. For Japanese readers this prompts reflection on how resilient their own political system is to similar shifts.

The South Korean discussion follows a similar line: columnists of leading newspapers note that American divides over immigration, racial justice and inequality resemble Korean conflicts around housing, regional and generational differences. Thus America is often portrayed not as a “teacher of democracy” but as a warning: if social fissures deepen, politics quickly radicalizes and begins to conduct foreign policy in fits and starts, deal by deal, without a stable strategy. In this sense both in Tokyo and Seoul voices are growing that propose treating the U.S. not as a moral compass but as an important yet ordinary state whose interests can sharply diverge from those of its allies.

South Africa looks at America from another end of the global spectrum, and its discussions are much more conflictual. There the U.S. is long no longer perceived as a guarantor of order or a key economic partner; rather, as a power that oscillates between cooperation and harsh pressure, and sometimes — outright interference in sensitive domestic matters. Trump’s second presidency has become a trigger for a series of crises, and local analysts view them as interconnected: a trade war, a program to admit white South Africans as refugees, diplomatic scandals over accusations of “white genocide,” and the threat of personal sanctions against the elite.

South African commentators see an economic calculation behind American policy toward their country as well as ideology. Trade analyses stress that new tariffs under the Trump administration — including 25 percent duties on steel and aluminum and subsequent increases up to 30 percent — have effectively nullified the benefits South Africa derived from participation in AGOA. As noted in a review of tariff policy under a second Trump term, taxes on South African exports were introduced in 2025 and accompanied by negotiations in which President Cyril Ramaphosa proposed long‑term purchases of U.S. LNG in exchange for tariff‑free quotas for exports of steel, aluminum and automobiles; the deal was harshly criticized domestically as jeopardizing energy security and the interests of local industry, and analysts emphasized that the main beneficiaries of such concessions would be a handful of foreign multinational corporations rather than South African producers. This was recounted in detail in an English‑language article on tariffs on the Wikipedia site, which cited estimates that up to 90% of the benefits from the previous AGOA regime flowed to a limited number of foreign firms, not the broader South African economy.

This trade thread is directly linked to the political one. In Washington some think tanks portray South African policy as undermining U.S. interests. For example, a May 2025 review by the Foundation for Defense of Democracies, titled “5 Ways South Africa Undermines U.S. Interests — and What Must Change,” argued that Pretoria’s strengthening ties with China, pressure on Taiwan and participation in BRICS create a “multichannel course of collision” with the U.S., and that Washington should seek to change South Africa’s foreign policy by linking it to trade and sanctions. The authors proposed using levers — from tariffs to targeted restrictions against individual figures of the South African elite — to “reset” Pretoria’s course and reduce Beijing’s influence. For the South African expert community such formulations look like an attempt to restore a Cold War–era hierarchy, and many analysts have responded with harsh criticism.

Within South Africa itself reactions to these U.S. steps are not uniform. In a column for TimesLIVE political commentator Michael Walsh in January 2025 strongly opposed the naive view that U.S. elections would “minimally” affect bilateral relations. On the contrary, he argued, Trump’s arrival creates a real risk of personal sanctions against South African elites, which could become a “winter period” in bilateral ties. He noted that the Trump administration, like Biden’s, is interested in preventing the complete collapse of the national unity government and the African National Congress, but is far less inclined to turn a blind eye to Pretoria’s closer ties with China and Russia and to Pretoria’s rhetoric on Palestine and Ukraine; in this logic sanctions against individuals appear to Washington as a convenient tool of targeted pressure that does not collapse the whole system but signals displeasure.

Particular irritation in South Africa is caused by the American program to admit white South Africans and the rhetoric of “white genocide” that comes out of Washington and from figures close to it. Officially this line in U.S. policy took the form of the Mission South Africa initiative — a program to provide asylum to white South Africans, primarily Afrikaners, on the pretext of “systematic violence and racial discrimination” related to land reform. As described in detail in the English‑language article “White South African refugee program,” the Trump administration presented this as a humanitarian step in response to an alleged “genocide” of white farmers, although such claims were thoroughly refuted by South African authorities and independent studies. President Cyril Ramaphosa publicly rejected the premise of the program, reminding that the white minority is not being persecuted on the basis of race and still owns a disproportionate share of land and wealth inherited from apartheid.

In local discourse this American initiative is viewed less as a migration issue than as an assault on sovereignty and the legitimacy of the post‑apartheid order. In December 2025, The Guardian reported, Ramaphosa strongly condemned the spread of the myth of “persecution of Afrikaners,” stressing that such narratives, fed by ideas of white supremacy, pose a serious threat to South Africa’s sovereignty and international relations. He explicitly linked the campaign to statements by President Trump and billionaire Elon Musk, warning that turning a distorted picture of South African reality into an element of American domestic politics undermines trust and creates security risks. Against this backdrop U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio’s decision to declare former South African ambassador to Washington Ebrahim Rasool persona non grata after Rasool accused Trump and Musk of promoting white supremacism became in Pretoria a symbol of U.S. unilateral diktat. As noted in a biographical note on Rasool, South African authorities called the step “regrettable” and urged “diplomatic decorum,” while the largest trade union federation COSATU promised to hold a “heroic meeting” and the opposition party COPE demanded the expulsion of the Chargé d’Affaires.

This conflict around “white genocide” and refugees intersects with another line of South African criticism of the U.S. — accusations of selective humanitarian agendas. South Africa’s foreign ministry reports recounted how the government sharply rejected the U.S. State Department’s human rights report on South Africa as “deeply flawed” and based on discredited data. The report accused South Africa of deteriorating human rights and unfairly targeted aspects of land reform against white Afrikaners. Pretoria insisted in response that its law on expropriation without compensation in particular cases is a constitutionally calibrated instrument for correcting historic inequalities and has support from U.N. structures, and argued that the United States, which has its own unresolved problems with refugee policy and domestic racism, is hardly in a position to preach. Against this background additional tariffs, cuts in aid and expedited visas for Afrikaners claiming persecution are described in the South African press as part of a single line: according to many authors, Washington is trying to use humanitarian rhetoric to advance its economic and geopolitical interests and to weaken South Africa’s independent course within BRICS and the African Union.

However, the South African conversation about America is not reducible to antagonism. In an analytical piece for the Institute for Global Dialogue, “South Africa’s Evolving Global Stance after the 2024 Elections,” researcher Sanusha Naidu reminds readers that within South Africa there is no consensus about the direction to take — toward closer ties with the Global South and China or toward more pragmatic, if complicated, relations with the U.S. She writes that the shift to a national unity government after the 2024 elections turned foreign policy into an arena of domestic political struggle: different parties have different views on the balance between principle and pragmatism. Using the example of the dismissal of a deputy minister from the Democratic Alliance for an unsanctioned visit to the U.S., Naidu shows that even within the coalition there are divergent ideas about how far to move toward Washington and where the “red line” in relations with the American administration lies. She emphasizes that the fragility of relations with the U.S. has revealed the absence of a clearly defined common foreign policy framework in the coalition agreement — each side interprets it in its own way, leading to improvisation and nervousness among partners.

This ambivalence is also visible in public opinion. As the FW de Klerk Foundation noted, citing Pew Research poll data, as late as the mid‑2020s almost half of South Africans expressed a favorable view of the U.S., higher than in some European countries. But trust in specific leaders — both Trump and Biden — was significantly lower, especially compared with the Obama period. This creates an interesting gap: America as a country, source of technology and culture, is generally seen positively, but American leadership is viewed as an unpredictable and sometimes hypocritical partner. In this respect South Africa in an odd way converges with Japan and South Korea, where young people continue to enjoy American pop culture and universities, while elites speak louder about the need to “insure” against Washington’s strategic unpredictability.

If one tries to connect these three very different regional perspectives, a fairly coherent picture emerges. For Japan and South Korea the U.S. remains an indispensable element of security and the economy, but its domestic political drift — toward populism, protectionism and cyclical reversals in foreign policy — turns the alliance into a source of risks as well as guarantees. Hence the growing trend toward strategic autonomy: not in the form of a break with Washington, but as a gradual strengthening of maneuverability and insurance against another sharp pivot in the White House.

For South Africa the U.S. is no longer a “custodial center” but one of the major external players that, according to many local analysts, tends to view Pretoria through the prism of rivalry with China and America’s own domestic cultural wars. The program to admit white refugees, the rhetoric of “white genocide” and harsh export tariffs are seen not as isolated initiatives but as a logical continuation of an American course in which human rights and democracy are applied selectively and economic and political levers are used without much regard for consequences for partners.

But all three countries raise a deeper question at once: if the United States is less willing or able to play the role of a predictable architect of the world order, who and how will fill that vacuum. In Tokyo and Seoul the answer most often invoked is strengthening regional ties and greater autonomy within the same Western institutions; in Pretoria — reorientation toward BRICS, the African Union and the Global South. Yet, as Japanese, South African and Korean authors alike emphasize, virtually no one is ready to push the U.S. entirely away: its economic power is too great, its markets and technologies too significant, and its military presence too consequential.

Perhaps the main thing that unites discussions of America in Japan, South Korea and South Africa today is the end of illusions. The U.S. is no longer seen as an immaculate moral beacon or a timeless guarantor of stability. It is an important, powerful but deeply contradictory actor whose domestic politics and cultural battles are projected directly onto the external stage. And the clearer this becomes in Tokyo, Seoul and Pretoria, the more their own foreign‑policy strategies cease to be derivatives of the American course and turn instead into attempts to build an independent, if complicated, life in the world after the “sole hegemon.”

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The world looks at Washington: how China, Turkey and India are discussing the US now

At the start of 2026, the United States again finds itself at the center of intense foreign attention, but the angle from which Washington is viewed noticeably shifts depending on national interests and the current agenda. For Beijing, the US is primarily part of a struggle for technological and economic sovereignty; for Ankara, it is simultaneously a security partner and a yardstick of its own international status; for Delhi, it is a crucial but by no means sole vector in a more multipolar foreign policy. Through these differences common themes emerge: the reconfiguration of global trade, wariness toward American “clubs of interest,” pragmatic calculation, and a decreasing willingness to accept the American narrative of the world order as given.

One of the most prominent motifs in the Chinese discussion about the US is the attitude toward American business and Washington’s attempts to build new economic alliances. At a recent MFA briefing, spokesperson Lin Jian specifically cited a fresh survey of American companies in Hong Kong: according to him, 86% of respondents believe the city remains competitive as an international business center, 92% do not intend to relocate their headquarters, and 94% are confident in the rule of law. The Chinese side presents these figures as a rebuttal to Western publications about the “decline” of Hong Kong and as an example that American business votes with its money — that is, its dollars — to continue operating within the Chinese system. In this narrative the US plays a dual role: political critic of China and, at the same time, a source of investment which, in Beijing’s view, will only grow as “Chinese modernization” advances and the “one country, two systems” formula strengthens. Importantly, Chinese diplomacy refers specifically to “American enterprises” — a signal both inward and to Washington: in conditions of tough rhetoric at the government level, the business layer remains a channel of mutual dependence. (mfa.gov.cn)

At the same time, Beijing is watching closely Washington’s attempts to reshape global supply chains for critical resources. When the US announced the creation of a new critical minerals trading mechanism that included South Korea, the Chinese MFA responded with a characteristic formula: on the one hand, it emphasized support for an “open, inclusive and mutually beneficial” system of world trade and said all countries “bear responsibility for the stability of global supply chains”; on the other hand, it sharply criticized any attempts by individual states to “use the rules of small circles to undermine the international economic order.” For Chinese commentators, the United States here is the architect of fragmentation, seeking through “clubs of like‑minded” countries on minerals, semiconductors or green technologies to circumvent formats where Beijing has strong positions, such as the WTO or broad multilateral platforms. Chinese analysts in business media interpret this as a long‑term challenge to prepare for not so much with retaliatory sanctions but by accelerating their own technological and resource self‑sufficiency. (mfa.gov.cn)

A curious detail is that in the current economic debate China increasingly cites the US not as the absolute center of the global economy, but as one variable in a more complex equation. In a February 9 review by a Chinese investment group on the state of the American labor market and industry, the United States is described with dry indicators: weak employment growth, a jump in the ISM manufacturing index, and a cautious debt strategy by the Treasury. That tone reflects a pragmatization of perception: Washington is no longer a “lighthouse” but an object of analysis on par with the EU or large developing economies. The aim is to understand how fluctuations in American demand, interest‑rate policy and debt will affect Chinese exports and finances — neither idealizing nor demonizing the US, but reducing everything to a risk calculation. (laohu8.com)

In the Turkish agenda, the US traditionally appears in the context of NATO, Syria, the Eastern Mediterranean and bilateral tensions; however, another revealing facet is the perception of America as a sporting and, more broadly, symbolic rival. Turkish media covered last year’s friendly match of the Turkish national team against the hosts of the upcoming World Cup — the US team — in detail, underlining that the 2–1 victory on American soil was the first away win in history for the Turkish team against the United States. At first glance this is just a football episode, but the commentary around the match shows how the Turkish audience perceives such events: as confirmation that Turkey can beat the “host” of a major tournament and a country with which it shares a complicated but important political history. In sports reviews the success in Hartford was accompanied by reminders of the US’s role as one of the three World Cup organizers, where Turkey also wants to present itself as a confident and self‑sufficient player. (aa.com.tr)

Sport thus becomes a metaphor for a broader foreign‑policy line pursued by Ankara, which uses both distancing from Washington and efforts to demonstrate equality of status. Turkish commentators in analytical outlets readily draw parallels between football victories and diplomatic episodes in which Ankara secures recognition of its interests — whether arms deals outside the scope of US sanctions or an active role in the Black Sea region. In such discourse the US is not a patron but a powerful opponent and partner that one can and should beat both on the field and at the negotiating table. This reinforces the domestic legitimacy of the Turkish “strategic autonomy” the authorities have been promoting in recent years.

The Indian discussion about the United States is the most layered: America is simultaneously the largest trading partner, an important source of technologies, a problematic factor in migration policy, and even a rival on the cricket pitch. Economically, Indian business and national media are actively discussing recent trade arrangements: under a bilateral “trade framework” the United States lowered tariffs on a number of Indian goods to 18%, which in Delhi is presented as a diplomatic success and a step toward correcting old asymmetries. Prime Minister Narendra Modi publicly welcomed the new tariff regime, and analysts emphasize that Washington is making concessions not out of altruism but as part of its own strategy to diversify import chains away from China. Indian commentators soberly note that the new tariff structure is the result of long negotiations and India’s firm stance in earlier rounds when Delhi was prepared to endure frictions with the US in order to secure better export terms. (aajtak.in)

At the level of specific sectors, these shifts are reflected, for example, in the handicrafts export sector. Ahead of the major Delhi Fair spring 2026, which brings together more than three thousand Indian exporters and buyers from over a hundred countries, industry media enthusiastically report that US tariff cuts and a future free‑trade deal with the EU open up “big business” for artisans. It is particularly emphasized that Indian goods receive a more favorable tariff regime in the US than Chinese goods: this is presented as a strategic window of opportunity tied to the redistribution of global chains amid US‑China rivalry. Thus, in Indian discourse Washington appears not only as a partner but as a lever to boost India’s competitiveness relative to China — and local experts urge taking advantage of this window before the balance of interests in American policy shifts again. (navbharattimes.indiatimes.com)

At the same time, in the shadow of a positive trade agenda remains the painful issue of migration and deportations. Indian outlets in Hindi and English have regularly published pieces in recent years about mass expulsions of Indian citizens from the US, highlighting Washington’s tough stance on illegal migration. In one high‑profile 2025 case American authorities deported as many as 119 Indians on board a C‑17 Globemaster military transport plane; previously 104 people had been sent back in the same manner. Indian commentators read this as a message not only to illegal migrants but also to Delhi: even strategic partnership and close defense cooperation do not prevent the US from pursuing migration policy strictly in its own interests. Some observers saw this as a sobering reminder to societies enchanted by the “American dream,” others as a reason to more actively defend the rights of Indian citizens abroad and to build a more asymmetrical but mutually respectful dialogue with Washington. (livemint.com)

Against this backdrop, it is noticeable how the Indian media environment places the US within a broader context of rivalry with China and Pakistan. In economic reviews the rise of India’s foreign‑exchange reserves to record levels is reported with a distinctly competitive tone: journalists suggest this “good news before the 2026 budget” will cause “irritation from the US to neighbors China and Pakistan,” hinting that strengthening India’s financial position increases its autonomy in relations with Washington. Here America functions more as an external point of comparison and a source of pressure — through ratings, deficit demands, and expectations for reforms — while the Indian audience increasingly perceives their country as an actor capable of withstanding that pressure and even using it for internal mobilization. (abplive.com)

A curious finishing touch to perceptions of the US in India comes from the cricket calendar: in the midst of preparations for the 2026 World Cup Indian sports media closely analyzed the India vs USA match. Although India’s victory itself was expected, discussion focused on how unexpectedly competitive the American team proved to be and how this changes perceptions of the US as a “non‑cricket” power. For the Indian fan, used to viewing the United States primarily through the prisms of IT, migration and geopolitics, the emergence of a serious American cricket team reinforces the sense that Washington is testing itself in ever new spheres of global influence — from sport to film on the Indian market. In response voices call on the Board of Control for Cricket in India to vigorously defend the interests of local leagues and not let NFL‑style commercial formats from the US dictate the rules of the “Indian game.” (ndtv.in)

Putting these different storylines together yields a more complex and multifaceted picture of international perceptions of the US. For China the central question is how to reduce dependence on Washington while still using American capital’s interest in the Chinese market. That is why Beijing closely monitors trust by American companies in Hong Kong while simultaneously criticizing American attempts to build alternative trade clubs in strategically important sectors. For Turkey it is important to show it can beat the US not only rhetorically but in symbolic arenas too, whether sport or independent diplomatic initiatives; against this background even a football victory in Hartford becomes part of a larger story about Turkey’s “upgrading.” For India, the US is simultaneously an important economic partner, a source of opportunities in competition with China, a hard player in migration policy, and a new rival on unexpected fields like cricket; the Indian debate is less inclined to idealization and more toward a cool calculation of benefits and costs.

The common denominator of these national perspectives is that the United States is almost nowhere anymore perceived as the unconditional center to which one must either attach oneself or hopelessly oppose. In Beijing, Ankara and Delhi, the US is increasingly described as another very powerful player in a multipolar system — with enormous resources but also growing internal constraints that can be pressured, bargained with, and used as windows of opportunity. It is this shift — from an ideological perception of America to an instrumental one — that sets the tone of most contemporary commentary about Washington outside the United States.

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How the World Sees America Today: Israel, Japan and Saudi Arabia

America has once again become the central nerve of world politics, but how it is seen from Jerusalem, Tokyo or Riyadh differs markedly from the usual American‑media perspective. In all three countries the discussion is not about an abstract “Washington” but about a very specific set of issues: economic nationalism and US tariff policy, the resilience of American democracy in the face of a “Trump comeback,” a reassessment of alliance and military guarantees, and the balance in strategic partnerships with the United States. The local perspective makes these topics more grounded and self‑interested: what does this mean for us, for our security, our economy and our domestic politics.

One of the most discussed topics in Israeli commentary has been the tariff offensive by the American administration. In an economic column by Saber Plotsker on Ynet, Donald Trump’s decision to impose 25 percent tariffs on imports from Canada and Mexico and 10 percent on goods from China is described as an “obsession with tariffs” that could set the US economy back 90 years and increase the expenses of the average American family by more than $3,000 a year. The author calls the move “bullying” outright and warns that Americans will end up paying for this policy, while linking it to the upcoming meeting between Netanyahu and the US president, implying that Israel will have to navigate between the interests of its exporters and the need not to spoil relations with Trump at a moment crucial for security. From the Israeli perspective, US trade protectionism is not an abstract theory of “de‑globalization” but a concrete risk to high‑tech exports and to the macroeconomic stability of a key ally on which security guarantees depend. (ynet.co.il)

In Japanese debates, America primarily appears as a country that has entered a period of chronic political and value instability. In a lengthy excerpt from the philosopher Nishitani Osamu’s book War and the West, published in Asahi Shimbun, a second Trump term is described not as an accidental anomaly but as a logical expression of the deeper nature of the United States: Nishitani argues that “whether it’s Trump or Biden, America is a country organized this way,” emphasizing the structural character of aggressive individualism, militarization and a tendency to export crises outward. For the Japanese reader this is presented as a warning: one cannot build strategy on a return to a “normal America,” because such a thing does not exist. Instead the author speaks of a “rupture” between the US and Europe and the need for Japan to think about its own trajectory in a world where an American leader can radically change course while staying within what the US considers acceptable. (book.asahi.com)

Out of this grows a second Japanese theme: if America is unstable, what should an alliance with it look like? A few years ago analysts such as Ikata Akira in Asahi wrote that the “new era of the Japan‑US alliance” is first and foremost an era of “economic security,” where traditional military guarantees are supplemented by a deep linkage in supply chains, intellectual property protection and coordination in high technologies, including 5G, biotechnology, AI and quantum research. Such pieces stress that Japan’s dependence on the US is becoming less military and more technological and regulatory; at the same time they remind readers that domestic polarization in the US undermines the predictability of this partnership and forces Tokyo to diversify risks — from strengthening regional formats to engaging in cautious dialogue with China. (webronza.asahi.com)

American democracy as a historically unstable phenomenon is another line of Japanese discussion. In a review of Adam Hochschild’s book Dark America, published on Asahi’s portal, a Japanese critic points out that already in Woodrow Wilson’s time, US participation in World War I — proclaimed as a “war for democracy” — became in the United States itself a justification for curtailing civil liberties. The book is described as a “warning about crises that could very well repeat,” and this resonates with Japanese anxieties about current blows to rights and institutions in the US. In such texts American democracy is not an exemplar but an object of historical analysis and cautious skepticism, which contrasts noticeably with a more idealized image that dominated Japanese mainstream discourse during the Cold War. (book.asahi.com)

Mirroring this, in Israel America is viewed through the prism of its own domestic polarization. Israeli commentators note that for their country — where the ruling coalition itself relies on a highly polarizing political course — the American example serves both as a warning and as a possible model. Columns in major Israeli outlets often portray the US as a country where a “divided society” has become the new norm, and where a change of administrations means not a smooth correction of course but a harsh pendulum swing. This forces the Israeli establishment to consider how much to bet on personal ties to a specific American president, as was done during Trump’s first term, and how necessary it is to “insure” relationships with cross‑party institutional dialogue in Congress.

Against this backdrop it is particularly telling how Saudi media describe the current phase of relations with Washington. In a long discussion published in Al‑Riyadh timed to the crown prince’s visit to the US, bilateral ties are characterized as an “established model of understanding and mutual respect,” built on decades of strategic cooperation. The authors emphasize that relations have now become “balanced” and are built on a principle of “agreement for agreement,” implying that the kingdom no longer sees itself as a junior partner automatically following the White House line. Instead Saudi Arabia positions itself as an equal player that maintains dialogue with the US while simultaneously building its own regional and global initiatives — from energy to Red Sea security. (alriyadh.com)

In another piece in the same paper the relations between the two countries are described as a “map of what bilateral relations between states should look like,” where “the formula of balance within these relations cannot be copied, nor can it be destroyed.” This is a very characteristic tone of today’s Saudi rhetoric: America remains the most important partner, but not the only center of gravity. Against the backdrop of Riyadh’s strengthening ties with Beijing and Moscow, stressing the “historical glory and greatness” of Saudi‑American relations serves not so much as an expression of loyalty to Washington as an argument that Saudi Arabia, not the US, sets the framework of this partnership in an era of “balance between the traditional alliance and a new coalition.” (alriyadh.com)

It is interesting that the theme of US economic policy resonates differently in the three countries. In Israel the focus is on the short‑term risks to the global and American economy from tariffs and trade wars that could hit high‑tech markets and investment flows vital to Israel’s startup sector. In Saudi Arabia, the same American economic nationalism is read differently: as an impetus to accelerate the kingdom’s own Vision 2030 diversification program and to build new economic ties outside the dollar‑centric system, while official commentary strives to maintain an explicitly positive tone toward Washington. In Japan, where memory of the structural trade conflicts of the 1980s is strong, the US protectionist turn fits into a broader trend of “economic security” and is seen as a factor that compels Japanese business and state to both deepen cooperation with America in critical sectors and cautiously insure against abrupt moves by any future administration.

No less telling is the difference of perspective on American military presence. In Japan recent pieces on media control under the US occupation administration in Okinawa and on current crimes by American military personnel are used to question the completeness of Japanese sovereignty even in the 2020s: authors directly ask, “is this country really independent,” if some offenses remain outside the jurisdiction of Japanese courts. For the Japanese reader the current US presence in Okinawa appears as a continuation of an unfinished postwar period when “the war has not yet ended” in an institutional sense. (book.asahi.com)

In Saudi Arabia the theme of American troops and security hardly appears directly in public rhetoric, but it is constantly present beneath the surface. When Saudi writers note that the US “from the beginning understood that the kingdom’s rulers possess the wisdom and status necessary to provide the stability the world seeks,” this is read both as a reminder of the kingdom’s role in securing energy supplies and as a signal to Washington: the region’s new security cannot be built on one‑sided American decisions that ignore Riyadh’s regional initiatives. (alriyadh.com)

In Israel American military support is perceived as part of an almost existential narrative. Although in current Israeli columns the US more often appears in economic and political contexts, in the background there is always the question: will America remain willing to provide military and diplomatic cover to Israel amid American society’s fatigue with foreign conflicts and growing domestic pressure over Middle East policy? Israeli commentators’ anxiety grows when they look at internal American debates about arms supplies to allies and sanctions against states accused of human‑rights violations: in these discussions Israel increasingly sees a mirror for its own conflicts.

At the intersection of all three discourses one important common thread appears: America as a country whose domestic polarization, historical shadows and economic nationalism are becoming foreign‑policy risks for allies and partners. A Japanese philosopher, a Saudi columnist and an Israeli economic commentator — each speaking from their own realities — ask the same question: to what extent can one rely on the United States as a stable pillar of the world system? Answers differ. In Tokyo the emphasis is on the need to “insure” through diversification and strengthening strategic autonomy. In Riyadh they emphasize balance and reciprocity, showing that the kingdom has mentally shifted from the role of “client” to that of a co‑architect of regional security architecture. In Jerusalem, by contrast, they continue to bet on a deep bond with the US but increasingly discuss the risk of relying all on a single political figure in Washington.

These local voices, rarely appearing in the English‑language agenda, demonstrate that the era of a “single America” as an unquestioned center of gravity is over. The US remains a key player, but in Tokyo, Jerusalem and Riyadh the conversation increasingly is not about how to fit into the American order but about how to structure relations with Washington so as to survive its next political cycle — and, if necessary, to outlast America in its current form.

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Trump, Tariffs and Tankers: How China, Turkey and France See the US Now

In early February 2026, conversations about the United States outside America surprisingly converge around three lines: the domestic political crisis and the "Trumpization" of institutions; Washington’s forceful and sanctions-driven foreign policy — from Iran to Venezuela and Greenland; and the economic course with high Fed rates, tariffs and a rewriting of trade rules. China, Turkey and France speak about the same things, but each from its own historical and geopolitical position.

In French texts the word "tourmente" — turmoil — stands out. Thus, the French-language portal Chine Direct opens a fresh review with an image of the Capitol against the backdrop of a January shutdown and mass protests against immigration policy and border agency actions, emphasizing "deep polarization and authoritarian tendencies" in the US and simultaneously painting China as a pillar of a "stable multilateral order." In this optic Washington is the source of instability, Beijing the guarantor of predictability, and Europe is caught between the two poles and forced to navigate between values and interests. (chinedirect.net)

From the same perspective, French analysis views the new US National Security Strategy published in November 2025. In an editorial at the Franco‑Asian Foundation, Jean‑Raphaël Peytregnet emphasizes that the document sent a signal to all of Asia: Washington is ramping up its military-political presence around Taiwan, increasing arms supplies to Taipei and reshaping regional alliances, while China, in response, is enlarging exercises around the island. French readers are told that, unlike previous strategies, the current NSS marks a US shift from a "global policeman" to a more selective, transactional leadership: responsibility is shifted onto allies, primarily European ones. (fondationfranceasie.org)

From this arises the main French dilemma: how to preserve security relying on the US without becoming hostage to its internal crises and unpredictable foreign policy? This is how Spanish US expert José Antonio Gurpegui frames it in an interview widely recounted by French and Franco‑Spanish outlets: "It would be a mistake to abandon US arms to throw ourselves into China’s embrace." The piece stresses that NATO partners are shocked by Washington’s course — from the seizure and transport to the US of Venezuela’s president Nicolás Maduro to discussions of "annexing" Greenland under the pretext of national security and Chinese and Russian presence in the Arctic. Yet despite all the irritation, Europe cannot give up the American nuclear umbrella and military infrastructure, and Gurpegui believes China offers neither an institutional nor a value-based comparable alternative. (ireste.fr)

The Chinese discourse about the US is structured differently: it talks much less about the drama of American democracy and more about systemic rivalry. Beijing’s news and analytical reviews currently emphasize three narratives. First, the acceleration of American military and technological strategy. The Shanghai Center for Digital Transformation analyzes in detail the Pentagon’s new "AI acceleration strategy": it concerns building "AI‑first" armed forces, seven priority programs — from "swarm forging" to "networks of intelligent agents" — and plans to integrate the chatbot Grok into the Defense Department’s internal networks. Commentators explicitly say the US goal is to lock in long-term superiority in military AI and to rely on total digitalization of intelligence and command systems. (dt.sheitc.sh.gov.cn)

Second, China’s foreign ministry almost daily responds to American moves around China’s perimeter of interests. At a briefing on February 2, diplomat Lin Jian sharply condemned the actions of American border and immigration services which, according to the Chinese account, repeatedly and without sufficient grounds detained employees of major Chinese firms on arrival in the US, interrogated them for up to 60 hours and then deported them. China characterizes this as "harsh repressive measures" and a "gross violation of the legitimate rights and interests of Chinese citizens," stressing that Washington’s behavior contradicts the consensus of the two countries’ leaders. (fr.china-embassy.gov.cn)

Third, Beijing uses any American rhetoric about the "malign influence of China" to shift the dispute into the plane of confrontation with "US hegemonism." The French version of the Chinese MFA website extensively quotes the reaction to remarks by US Secretary of State Marco Rubio and chair of the China special committee John Mulanar, who welcomed Panama’s Supreme Court decision against a concession to a Hong Kong company in Panama Canal ports. The Chinese representative states bluntly: "Whoever seeks to monopolize the canal, whoever under the guise of rule of law undermines international law — the international community sees clearly." Thus an internal legal dispute in Panama becomes a symbol of the struggle between American "monopolism" and Chinese "equal openness." (us.china-embassy.gov.cn)

Turkish analysis of the US today starts from a different premise: Ankara is not an object but a regional actor that must account for the American factor while seeking to minimize unilateral dependence. A detailed review of Donald Trump’s "foreign policy report card" for 2025 at Anadolu agency shows a dual perception. Author Hakan Çopur emphasizes that the White House has simultaneously become more involved in conflicts in Gaza and around Ukraine while radically redefining the US role in the world. The article notes that the new security strategy signed in December effectively abandons the image of the US as the "global policeman" and shifts a significant portion of the burden to allies, chiefly European ones. Foreign policy is declared "fundamentally pragmatic," built under the slogan "America First" and economic nationalism; unlike the previous administration, China is no longer called an "enemy" but described as an "international economic competitor." (aa.com.tr)

Against this background Turkish authors pay close attention to how the balance in US‑Turkish relations itself has shifted. In the same piece Çopur notes that the Erdogan‑Trump meeting at the White House on September 25 — discussing Gaza, Ukraine, Turkey’s return to the F‑35 program and boosting bilateral trade — became "the most positive diplomatic contact in recent history" of the bilateral relationship. In the Turkish view, under Trump Washington changes from a "lecturing partner" into a bargaining but more predictable counterparty: demanding, but willing to make deals if Ankara brings added geopolitical value. (aa.com.tr)

However, the same Turkey watches the expansion of the American force toolkit with concern. A separate section is devoted to Venezuela: designating the drug cartel group Tren de Aragua as a "foreign terrorist organization," strikes on "suspicious" vessels off the country’s coast, and then a total blockade of tankers and even discussion of possible strikes on Venezuelan territory raise for the Turkish reader the question: where does the fight against crime end and regime change begin? The author notes that even within the American conservative camp the question is asked: "Are we heading toward war with Venezuela?" — and concludes that American power under Trump relies even more on unilateral sanctions and demonstrative uses of force, casting a long shadow over all countries whose policies diverge from Washington’s priorities. (aa.com.tr)

The economic aspect of American policy is especially important for both Turkey and China. Turkish economists at regional centers such as BakuNetwork are already summing up the first year of Trump’s second term: the promised "unprecedented boom" in practice results in GDP growth of about 2.1% in 2025, which the author calls "a slowdown, not an explosion." A line is drawn between the rhetoric of a "great revival" and statistics that show the noticeable costs of tariff wars and high interest rates for the real sector and households. (bakunetwork.org)

In China the discussion about the Fed, rates and the dollar takes place mainly in the plane of the global financial architecture. Chinese business media debate the prospects of 2–3 Fed rate cuts in 2026, tying them not only to US domestic inflation but also to personnel changes in the Fed’s leadership and the willingness of a new, more "dovish" chair to ease despite persistent high tariffs. Such analysis is accompanied by constant comparison with China’s monetary line: Beijing presents itself as a more predictable, cautious regulator, contrasting this with Washington’s "politicized" monetary policy. (jiemian.com)

A distinct, almost symbolic layer is the US military presence and its ability to project power. French-language materials closely track the deployment of an American carrier strike group and other ships in the Persian Gulf, the Red Sea and the eastern Mediterranean amid rising tensions with Iran. Experts explain to the French audience which ships and aircraft Washington is sending and pose the question: how far is Trump prepared to go, balancing between deterring Iran and the risk of dragging Europe into a new major Middle Eastern conflict? (fr.wikipedia.org)

Against this backdrop Chinese commentators interpret the US naval buildup in the region as another example of a "counter‑offensive by a weakening hegemony," rather than as a display of strength. Turkish analysts, recalling their own operations in Syria and Iraq and difficult negotiations with Washington over zones of responsibility, stress that any major American maneuver in the region automatically forces Ankara to ask: how not to be squeezed between NATO demands and its own regional ambitions.

In all three countries there are also more subtle, "civilizational" assessments of the US. French commentary repeatedly returns to the idea that America remains indispensable for European security but is increasingly unreliable as the bearer of a liberal normative agenda: domestic protests, attempts to strengthen central control over elections, pressure on media and NGOs — all this, as one author emphasizes, "erodes American moral capital," which until recently was considered unquestioned. In the Turkish environment, especially among conservative‑Islamist circles, the US is still seen as the main architect of an unfair order in the Middle East, but Trump, unlike Biden, is viewed as a partner with whom one can bargain directly without cloaking it in human‑rights rhetoric. Chinese rhetoric puts the US outside the "modernization model" bracket altogether: Washington is described more as an example of the degradation of late liberalism, whereas Beijing offers its own "stable and inclusive" model of global governance.

Still, stripping away the ideological veneer, the common motive of Chinese, Turkish and French texts about the US is one: the world has entered an era in which American power remains colossal but is no longer perceived as the stable backbone of the system. In Paris there is worry about how not to be caught between Washington’s hammer and Beijing’s anvil; in Ankara — how to extract the maximum from a transactional Trump without becoming the target of his sanctions and operations; in Beijing — how to use the crisis of confidence in the US to advance its agenda of "equal multipolarity" while simultaneously defending against Washington’s attempts to contain China’s technological and military surge.

This combination of fear, calculation and fatigue with American exceptionalism forms today the backdrop against which the world reads news from Washington — about shutdowns, carrier groups and new tariff threats.

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The World Under Trump's Second Term: France, South Korea and Japan Debate the US

Donald Trump's second term has returned the United States to the center of global debates not only as a superpower but also as a source of strategic uncertainty. In France, South Korea and Japan, Washington is discussed almost daily, but the focus differs: from fear of an "unpredictable ally" and economic tariff wars to anxiety over climate policy and the security architecture in Asia. The common nerve in all three countries is the same — the US is increasingly seen less as the predictable backbone of the liberal order and more as a large but capricious player with whom one must both cooperate and guard against.

In France, the image of America today is tinged with anxiety. A recent Ifop poll showed that 42% of French people already call the United States a "hostile country," and 51% consider it a military threat to France — a few years ago these figures were significantly lower, underlining a sharp decline in trust in the current Washington administration, regional site L’Est Républicain wrote, citing Ifop research prepared for the Partir à New York portal. According to the publication, only 24% of respondents still see the US as an ally, 34% as a neutral partner, and negativity toward Trump himself is almost total, with "very bad opinion" prevailing among respondents. The tone of the poll is echoed in debates in the National Assembly, where deputies from the left and Green opposition speak of "fear of economic lagging behind the US and China" and criticize Europe's retreat from climate ambitions under pressure from a "race for competitiveness" — with direct references to the US withdrawal from the Paris Agreement during Trump's first term. In the Assembly transcript one speaker recalled how Emmanuel Macron told Trump in 2017 that "there is no Planet B," while critics now argue that Macron himself is playing into the "Trumpization" of Europe's climate agenda by allowing business to push for relaxed environmental standards in response to American industrial policy and subsidies for the green industry.

Interestingly, the French conversation about America today runs along two lines at once. On the one hand, it's classic political criticism: Trump in Paris is seen as a leader undermining multilateral institutions, provoking trade conflicts and using sanctions as a habitual foreign policy tool. On the other hand, America is also a competitor setting the pace in the "green" industrial race. Some French economists and politicians, including centrists and moderate rightists, point out that the American strategy of subsidizing industry and protecting key sectors could become a model for Europe if France and the EU do not want to fall irrevocably behind the US and China. But in the left-wing and environmental press another motive dominates: Europe should not respond to "Trumpism" by mirroring it with a weakening of its own climate standards; instead it should use it as an argument for an even tougher green course, to avoid dependence on imports of American fossil fuels and technologies.

In East Asia — both in South Korea and Japan — America remains the main security guarantor, but Trump's second term has turned this alliance into a source of serious political and economic stress. Even before the current cycle, Korean and Japanese analysts warned that the new administration in Washington would treat relations with allies purely "transactionally," demanding money and concessions in exchange for security guarantees. Karishma Vaswani, writing for The Japan Times, noted that for decades the US could "by default" rely on Tokyo and Seoul as its most dependable partners in Asia, but Trump's rise and leadership changes in the two countries have made those ties no longer unquestionable; the emphasis is shifting to bargaining and mutual grievances rather than long-term strategic vision. In South Korea this feeling is particularly acute: memories remain of pressure during Trump's first term, when Washington demanded a multiple increase in Seoul's payment for the presence of US troops. A review of the evolution of the US–Korea alliance prepared by the Council on Foreign Relations reminded readers that Washington and Seoul struggled to agree on a new cost-sharing scheme for stationing forces, and the Korean side was repeatedly alarmed by Trump's statements about possibly withdrawing forces if the ally "doesn't pay enough."

US trade policy is a separate line of irritation in Seoul. Trump's 2025 proposal to introduce a universal 10% tariff on a wide range of imported goods and a separate 25% tariff on products from South Korea shocked the country, since the blow fell on key export sectors from automobiles to electronics. The CFR review emphasized that against the backdrop of upcoming presidential elections in South Korea, these moves became an important domestic factor: leading opposition candidate Lee Jae-myung ran on promises to reduce "excessive dependence on Washington" and to balance ties with China. South Korean outlets like Hankyoreh and Kyunghyang Shinmun, however, interpreted the situation differently: progressive authors saw it as proof that "a one-sided bet on Washington" makes Korea a hostage to American domestic politics, while conservative commentators reminded readers of the growing threat from North Korea and China and urged "weathering" tariff pressure for the sake of preserving the military alliance.

In Japan the debate over the US is even more nuanced, because America there is simultaneously the main military patron, the largest economic partner and a political factor in domestic debates. On expert platforms like the Institute of Geoeconomics (IOG) and in academic publications analysts examine each of Trump's tariff moves in detail. For example, an IOG analytical piece dissected February presidential proclamations sharply raising tariffs on aluminum and steel imports to 25% and removing previous exemptions for allies, including Japan. The authors stressed that this time the US is applying a logic of securitizing the economy: metallurgy is declared "vital to national security," which means Washington is willing to sacrifice even allies' interests to protect its own industry from Chinese competition and circumvention via third countries. In Tokyo this is perceived as a signal: there is no longer any "special Asian tie" with the US akin to the Anglo‑American relationship; there is only the American national interest, which at any moment can cut off trade privileges even for the closest partners.

The Japanese government's reaction to Trump's intention to raise auto tariffs illustrates Tokyo's cautious but alarmed tone. At a recent briefing, the minister of economy, trade and industry, responding to a question about Washington's plans to raise auto tariffs in April, acknowledged that this would be a blow to a "key sector of the Japanese economy," and promised to "carefully assess possible consequences" and maintain close dialogue with the American side, though he did not disclose specific countermeasures. Meanwhile Japanese industry associations and economic commentators speak much more directly about the risk of "de‑Americanizing" Japanese supply chains: if Washington continues to expand tariff pressure and restrict investment, some businesses will seek new markets and regional partnerships in Asia to reduce dependence on the US. Business press columns argue that this, paradoxically, brings Japanese interests closer to those of the EU, which is also suffering from Washington's protectionist turn.

The China factor and security in Asia are another key node around which French, Korean and Japanese discussions about the US interweave. Since the signing in 2023 of the US–Japan–South Korea trilateral pact at Camp David, which strengthened military coordination against China and North Korea, Tokyo and Seoul have been used to seeing Washington as the architect of regional security. However, the narrowing of American foreign policy to a transactional logic under Trump has generated doubts: is the White House ready to take real risks for allies if it comes to Taiwan or maritime incidents in the East China and South China Seas? In Japan some experts — for example, authors of analysis for the Foreign Policy Research Institute cited by The Japan Times — warn that if Washington treats alliances as a fee‑based service, political support for hosting US bases in the region could weaken over time. In South Korea similar concerns overlap with the traditional polarization over North Korea: conservatives insist that under any US administration Washington remains an indispensable deterrent guarantor, while progressive forces increasingly propose developing more autonomous defense and seeking a balance between Washington and Beijing.

In France the China question arises in another light — as part of the "great game" between Washington and Beijing in which Europe risks becoming peripheral. French commentators in Le Monde, Libération and several regional outlets write about the "fear of economic lagging behind the US and China" not only in GDP terms but in the technological race: both Washington and Beijing aggressively subsidize their companies in semiconductors, green technologies and the military industry. Against this backdrop the US under Trump is not simply a NATO ally but a competitor that, through tariffs and industrial policy, can drain investment and jobs from Europe. Paradoxically, Washington's anti‑China positioning strengthens anti‑American sentiments in France: the Ifop poll that showed a rise in those who view the US as an "enemy" placed America among perceived military threats immediately after classic adversaries like Russia, North Korea, Iran and China. This indicates an erosion of the familiar dichotomy of "the West against authoritarian states" in French public perception.

US climate policy and its influence on the global agenda is a topic discussed especially emotionally in France and Japan. In France the "climate Trump" long ago became a symbol of denial of the scientific consensus. Every new piece of news about another rollback of environmental standards or dismantling of conservation regulations in Washington serves as an argument for those calling on the EU not to follow the "American path." In the French parliament representatives of left forces openly accuse both the European Commission and the Élysée Palace of, by copying the logic of the US and China and invoking competitiveness, eroding Europe's own climate goals instead of becoming a "regulatory superpower" and imposing green standards on the world. In the Japanese press the tone is more technocratic: Japanese business outlets closely monitor how Trump changes the rules for energy and heavy industry. On the news aggregator The HEADLINE, which systematizes the day's main events, a recent piece examined the removal from the US Environmental Protection Agency website of references to "human factors" in climate change and the reduced availability of scientific data — Reuters Japan highlighted criticism from scientists and NGOs warning about undermining the basis for assessing climate risks by business and investors. For a Japanese audience this is not just an ideological question: a country vulnerable to natural disasters and actively investing in green technologies has an interest in a transparent and stable global climate architecture. Every US step that erodes it is perceived as a factor of long‑term uncertainty for Japanese companies.

A special place in Asian and European discussions is occupied by the US role in Russia's war against Ukraine. Recent reports, widely cited by Japanese media such as The HEADLINE referencing Asahi Shimbun, that Washington offered Moscow and Kyiv a "deadline" to end the war by June and demanded a roadmap for a possible agreement are perceived as a signal: the Trump administration seeks to "close" the conflict by a certain date, thinking more about domestic agendas and resources than about maximizing Ukraine's chances of a favorable outcome. Japanese commentaries use cautious phrasing: on the one hand, any step toward peace is welcomed; on the other hand, imposing hard deadlines and pressure on Kyiv raises fears that Washington is ready to make a "deal" with Moscow to relieve itself of the burden of European security. In France, where the Ukraine issue is highly politicized, some analysts see such positioning as confirmation of long‑standing fears: under Trump the US tends to view Europe as a playing field for its own geopolitical experiments rather than as a partner with whom joint strategies are developed. This further pushes the French debate toward "strategic autonomy" for Europe: the more arbitrarily Washington acts on Ukraine, the more insistently Paris calls for strengthening its own defense capabilities and reducing dependence on NATO.

Across all three countries another shared theme is rising — the need to learn to live alongside a tougher, internally polarized and externally unpredictable America without severing ties with it. French polls, Japanese expert columns and Korean pre‑election platforms describe this task in different ways, but the essence is the same: the US remains indispensable in terms of military power, the financial system and technological leadership, yet trust in Washington's long‑term predictability has been undermined. In France this translates into talk of boycotting American goods and even the hypothetical possibility of leaving NATO in a crisis — in the same Ifop poll a significant share of respondents supported strong countermeasures up to trade barriers against the US in response to gross actions by Washington, such as a hypothetical annexation of Greenland. In Japan and South Korea the rhetoric is more cautious, but between the lines it is clear they are preparing for a world in which the American "anchor" may falter: options such as increasing national defense budgets, developing regional formats without the US and diversifying trade partners are being discussed.

Against this backdrop voices trying to build a more complex, less emotional view of America stand out. French and Japanese academic journals regularly publish articles treating the US not as a monolithic "Trump" but as a field of struggle among different elites — industrial, financial, military, technological — whose priorities may diverge. These authors remind readers that even under a hard protectionist White House, large American corporations are interested in cooperation with Europe and Asia and oppose extreme ruptures of global supply chains. In South Korea a similar argument is used by those who urge not to "bet on China" in response to dissatisfaction with Trump: in their view, American democratic institutions and public opinion still limit the space for radical actions by the administration, whereas in China comparable restraints do not exist.

Thus, current international debates about the US in France, South Korea and Japan long ago surpassed the simple question of being "for" or "against" America. They have become a subtler conversation about how to adapt domestic strategies — in the economy, security and climate — to a United States that increasingly fails to match the image of the "leader of the free world" from 1990s textbooks. For the French this is above all a challenge to sovereignty and Europe's climate agenda; for the Koreans a painful choice between dependence on the American umbrella and a drive for greater autonomy; for the Japanese a test of whether they can pursue an independent line while remaining a pillar of American presence in the region. The common conclusion, heard more often in these societies, is this: the world is entering an era when Washington can be viewed neither as an assured protector nor as a clear adversary. It will be necessary to constantly bargain with it, dispute it and sometimes resist it — and Paris, Seoul and Tokyo are preparing for precisely that scenario today.

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A World Watching Washington: how Germany, Brazil and Ukraine share anxiety about the US

In February 2026, conversations about the United States outside Washington revolve around three topics that almost always appear together: the return of Donald Trump and the sharp change in perceptions of America’s reliability; the impact of the new U.S. line on Europe's security and the course of the war in Ukraine; and a more down‑to‑earth but unexpectedly politicized story — the 2026 FIFA World Cup in the US, Canada and Mexico and the image of America as the host of a major global event. Germany, Brazil and Ukraine look at the same steps by Washington but see different things in them: some see a threat to the established world order, some an unreliable but still necessary partner, and some a source of deep disappointment and at the same time an indispensable support.

The first major layer of discussion is the figure of Trump and the question of whether the United States remains an “anchor” of world stability at all. In Germany the new administration in Washington is literally described as “policy with a sledgehammer.” For example, the Munich Security Conference report cites U.S. policies under Trump as an example of “demolition‑ball politics” — a destructive policy that harms not only American democracy internally but also NATO allies. The same report stresses that in Germany the U.S. under the current president is perceived as an unreliable NATO partner, and it is this distrust that fuels Europeans’ general pessimism about politics’ ability to improve their lives. In polls cited by the report, Germans show one of the lowest shares of people believing political decisions will make things better.(welt.de)

Accordingly, a serious discussion is beginning in Berlin about the transatlantic alliance no longer being something to be taken for granted. The general line of this doubt is voiced not only by experts but also by major parties. In a fresh draft program document the SPD explicitly states that Germany and the EU must “reorder relations with the United States completely anew,” because Trump’s policies call Washington’s reliability as a partner and ally into question. SPD leader Lars Klingbeil emphasizes that the transatlantic relationship is no longer the “natural state” it was under Joe Biden: instead of previous value‑based commonality there are hard disagreements over democracy, international law and climate. From this the social democrats draw the conclusion that Europe needs greater strategic autonomy, up to the slogan “Buy European” in the defense sphere, in order not to depend on the whims of the White House. Klingbeil discusses this in his program being debated by the party leadership and quoted in Die Zeit.(zeit.de)

But despite the criticism of Trump, the German conversation about the U.S. is not reducible to antagonism. At the same time Chancellor Friedrich Merz is trying to build an ambitious foreign agenda in which the United States remains a key reference. One central point of his strategy is to close the “growth gap” with the U.S. and China — that is, to make German and European economies grow faster again and prevent technological lag. Welt, analyzing his course, notes that Merz seeks to turn Germany into a “global heavyweight state” and sees not only defense but also the economy and domestic reforms as part of this. However, the deeper Germany sinks into economic crisis and domestic political disputes, the more shaky Berlin’s position appears ahead of the March meeting with Trump: a weak economy undermines Germany’s ability to argue with the U.S. on equal terms.(welt.de)

The Brazilian lens on Washington is also changing, but in a different register — here the emphasis is not on NATO and European security but on the U.S. status as a global superpower and a climate actor. Official Brazilian rhetoric under Lula da Silva emphasizes a multilateral world and south‑south cooperation. In reports about the “Leaders’ Summit” in Belém in November 2025, which became a central COP‑30 event, it is explicitly noted that the Brazilian side did not expect participation from Trump or even a U.S. representative. Officials in Brasília briefly told journalists: “The U.S. government will not be at the leaders’ meeting.” In his recent personal meetings Lula tried to persuade Trump to come at least to voice his protest views on the climate crisis, but the White House ultimately preferred to keep its distance. This is perceived in Brazil as a sign that the current U.S. administration is not particularly interested in climate diplomacy and the Amazon agenda, and it makes it easier for Lula to build an image of Brazil as an independent global center of “green” policy.(juinanews.com.br)

The popular image of the U.S. in Brazilian society has changed even more noticeably. O Dia, citing a Genial/Quaest poll, reports that the share of Brazilians with a negative view of the United States jumped to 48% in one and a half years, for the first time exceeding those who view America favorably (44%). At the same time China became the country with the best image among Brazilians, while the U.S. dropped down the trust rankings. America’s popularity fell especially sharply among Lula’s electorate: 69% of his voters view the U.S. negatively, whereas 72% of Jair Bolsonaro’s supporters still view the country positively. The article emphasizes that the deterioration of the U.S. image is linked to “tense relations” between the Trump government and Brazil, including U.S. attempts to pressure Brazilian institutions such as the Supreme Court.(odia.ig.com.br) Here one can see how American internal polarization and the White House’s aggressive style are “projected” onto foreign politics: for the left‑liberal part of Brazil the U.S. becomes not a symbol of democracy but a source of pressure and destabilization, while the right‑wing opposition continues to see America as a model and natural ally.

The Ukrainian perspective on Trump, and more broadly on the U.S., is perhaps the most dramatic and contradictory today. If at the end of 2024 a significant portion of Ukrainians associated his election with hope for a “quick end to the war” — Trump’s own formula of “24 hours” was actively discussed in Ukrainian social networks and in conversations with sociologists — then already a year later the dominant feeling became shock and disappointment. Ukrainska Pravda writes about this in detail in a summary of “a year of Trump for Ukrainian sociology”: the editorial notes that in December 2024 more than half of respondents considered Trump’s presidency a positive development, but after sharp moves by the new administration and the famous quarrel in the Oval Office on February 28, 2025, the share of those who see his presidency as “bad for Ukraine” jumped above 70%.(pravda.com.ua)

The figures are confirmed by the Kyiv International Institute of Sociology. In a survey published in January 2026, 74% of respondents said that Trump’s presidency is bad for Ukraine; only 14% considered it good.(eurointegration.com.ua) At the same time, trust in the U.S. and NATO has noticeably fallen compared with 2024, while trust in the EU remains at a higher level. This is an important turn that may be non‑obvious to an American audience: it is not simply dislike of a specific leader, but a “cooling” toward the very image of America as a security guarantor, even though the country still urgently needs military and political support from the West.

Two layers coexist in the Ukrainian discourse: emotional disappointment and the rational recognition of the U.S.’s indispensability. People’s deputy Oleh Dunda writes in an opinion column for Ukrainska Pravda: “The dependence of the U.S. on us” — the U.S. depends on us. His thesis is paradoxical to an outside observer: he argues that ahead of the 2026 midterm elections Ukraine — despite its fragile situation — manages to keep the status of the only “trump card” for the Trump administration that can improve its standing with some voters. Dunda notes that Trump’s approval ratings on issues important to the average American have fallen below 40%, and one influential Republican senator, Thom Tillis, already harshly criticizes members of his cabinet and demands resignations. In this logic, any talk that Trump will “abandon Ukraine” is, the Ukrainian deputy says, a bluff that would be a political self‑inflicted wound for the White House.(pravda.com.ua) This view is hard to find in the United States itself: there the Ukrainian issue is perceived more as a foreign policy burden, whereas in Kyiv strategists try to “flip the board” and show that the Ukrainian card could save Trump in domestic politics.

The German security debate is structured similarly: it is built on disagreements with Trump, but its starting point remains the recognition that without the United States neither deterrence of Russia nor a long‑term architecture of European defense will work. In the Bundestag at the end of 2025 a whole package of proposals on relations with the U.S. was discussed, submitted by the Alternative for Germany faction. One of the projects, as noted in the official parliamentary report, was called “For a new start in German‑American relations — together for security, stability and peace in Ukraine.” Other texts demanded, conversely, to promote “national sovereignty” together with the U.S. and to push back “woke positions” on the international stage.(bundestag.de) So even within the camp of German populist right‑wingers the U.S. is simultaneously seen as a desirable partner in the fight against liberal globalism and as a source of ideological pressure to be contested.

The second major thematic block linking Germany and Ukraine is perceptions after February 5, 2026 of a world without the New START treaty and the future of strategic deterrence. Deutschlandfunk, presenting an international press review, emphasizes that with the expiration of the new Treaty on Further Reduction and Limitation of Strategic Offensive Arms between the U.S. and Russia, for the first time in half a century the nuclear powers have no constraints on expanding their most destructive weapons.(deutschlandfunk.de) Ukrainian commentary on this event has a different emphasis: here the treaty is primarily viewed through the lens of Ukraine’s security. On the portal European Pravda, analytical pieces in 2025 already suggested that weakening controls over nuclear arsenals raises the price of any concessions to Russia and makes security guarantees for Ukraine even more sensitive.(eurointegration.com.ua)

Against this background Ukrainian authors closely watch how domestic American politics will affect support for Kyiv in 2026. Political observer Oleksandr Radchuk, in a column for Slovoi i Dilo, notes that the U.S. has midterm Congressional elections ahead, and these will be the litmus test for whether the Trump administration will keep any course of support for Ukraine or decide to finally “sell” the issue to voters as a refusal of “other people’s wars.” Radchuk points out that in a few days Washington will host the anniversary “Ukrainian Week” and a prayer breakfast on the occasion of the 250th anniversary of U.S. independence, where the Ukrainian delegation will try to convey to American elites that abandoning support for Kyiv will hit not only Ukraine but also America’s reputation as the leader of the free world.(slovoidilo.ua) Here again we see the same motif: Ukrainians criticize the current White House, but convincing the United States — and not someone else — to remain on Ukraine’s side remains their strategic task.

The third, at first glance less dramatic but symbolically important, storyline is the 2026 World Cup, to be held in the U.S., Canada and Mexico. In Germany the tournament has become a political issue at the intersection of sport, migration and human rights. The liberal‑green wing calls for discussing the possibility of boycotting the World Cup in connection with harsh measures by U.S. immigration services and Washington’s general retreat from human‑rights standards. But Interior Minister Alexander Dobrindt (CSU), in an interview with Welt, rejected the idea of a boycott, saying sport should not become a hostage to political conflicts and that repeating the Qatar‑style debates for the U.S. would be wrong. His position is supported by other government members, including Defense Minister Boris Pistorius and State Secretary for Sports Christiane Schnellendler, while representatives of the Greens and part of the SPD, such as MP Bettina Lugk, on the contrary, favor a strong political signal.(welt.de)

In Brazil the conversation around the 2026 World Cup is more traditionally football‑centered, but even here the U.S. is not just a backdrop. A CNN Brasil piece on a global Ipsos poll shows that 71% of Brazilians plan to watch the 2026 tournament, especially Z‑generation men.(cnnbrasil.com.br) For the Brazilian audience the U.S. in this context is a country‑stage where a big sporting celebration takes place and also a field for discussing climate risks: nearly half of respondents in Brazil believe that at least one match could be interrupted by extreme weather conditions, bringing to mind recent precedents in the U.S. where club matches were halted due to storms and heat.(cnnbrasil.com.br)

Specialized football media such as Globo Esporte add a more practical angle: the Brazilian Football Confederation has already sent delegations to the U.S. to study potential team base camps, considering cities like Orlando, Seattle and Portland. Reports describe the American infrastructure — stadiums, training centers, logistics — thus creating in the Brazilian imagination an image of the U.S. as a technologically advanced, athlete‑friendly country.(ge.globo.com) This image clearly contrasts with America’s politically conflicted image in other news and shows how the same state can simultaneously be a “problem” in political columns and a “dream” for football fans.

Putting these fragments together produces a common picture: Germany, Brazil and Ukraine are differently embedded in the U.S. orbit, but in all three countries the same skepticism is growing — the belief that America by itself is no longer a guarantor of stability and value‑based leadership. In Germany this is expressed in SPD calls to reassess the transatlantic alliance and in Merz’s parallel attempt to bet on European autonomy while maintaining ties with Washington. In Brazil it is reflected in a shift of public sympathies toward China and in Lula’s climate diplomacy, where the U.S. often appears as an absent or uninterested player. In Ukraine it shows as a sharp decline in trust in Trump and the painful realization that American support may be variable rather than a constant.

But in the same mosaic there is another motive, less visible to Americans themselves: in all three countries elites are trying hard to find a new, albeit changed, role for the United States. Ukrainian deputies like Oleh Dunda insist that even a “Trumpian America” needs Ukraine’s success for its own image. German politicians discuss how Europe can build its own defense backbone in the absence of arms‑control agreements and amid “sledgehammer politics” in the White House, without tearing up NATO but reducing dependence. Brazilian leaders use Trump’s refusal to come to Belém to emphasize that global climate leadership can and should come from outside Washington. In this sense the world around the U.S. is no longer simply reacting to America but increasingly writing a “new role” for it — often without its participation.

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'America First' and the World: How Turkey, South Africa and Russia Debate the US's New Course

At the beginning of 2026, the United States again occupies a central place in foreign columns and analysis, but almost nowhere as the familiar "leader of the free world." Under Donald Trump's second term, US foreign policy is perceived in Ankara, Pretoria and Moscow as a mix of economic pressure, dismantling of old institutions and an attempt to rewrite the very architecture of global security. Several themes come to the fore at once: Washington's new foreign policy doctrine and its refusal of the "world policeman" role; trade wars and tariffs; the fate of global arms-control regimes and international organizations; and the humanitarian consequences of a sharp rollback in American aid.

Looking at three very different countries — Turkey, South Africa and Russia — it becomes clear that almost all are arguing about the same things, but from different positions. Turkish writers worry about how to fit into the new "Trumpist" architecture without losing autonomy; South African commentators see the US alternately as a donor cynical about human lives and as still an indispensable partner; Russian experts discuss how to exploit the American turn inward to accelerate the redistribution of the global order.

The central throughline is Trump’s reaffirmation of an updated "America First" formula, now presented as the official 2025 National Security Strategy and accompanied by a US retreat from multilateral commitments. Turkish and Russian-language outlets analyze this document in detail, stressing that it explicitly states: "the days when the US upheld the world order are behind us," and that allies, primarily Europe, must pay more for their own security. (aa.com.tr)

The first major knot of debate is the new US foreign policy doctrine and the abandonment of the old hegemonic role. In Turkey this is described as a painful but objective stage in a system change. In an opinion piece "ABD, gerçekleri nasıl kabullenecek" in the newspaper Aydınlık, Şule Perinçek dissects Trump's November national security document and sees in it not merely an inward turn but a forced recognition that the unipolar world order is collapsing. In her formulation, the US can no longer sustain a "single pole" and therefore must adapt to a new multipolarity in which the roles of Turkey, China, Russia and Global South countries are growing. (aydinlik.com.tr)

Turkish analysts draw an interesting distinction: despite all the rhetoric of "realism" and "principledness," the new strategy, in their view, still serves to preserve Western dominance—only without the costs of acting as the "gendarme." One academic study on US Middle East policy says Washington consistently used the region as a proving ground for force after the Cold War, and now seeks to do it more cheaply and instrumentally, relying more on economic and technological levers of pressure. (dergipark.org.tr)

In Russia the same document is read differently— as an ideological formalization of a long-observed US rejection of multilateralism. The Russian-language analysis by Anadolu Ajansı explicitly emphasizes that Trump in the new document entrenches a course toward "pragmatic but not multilateral" foreign policy, where allies must pay for their own protection and the US withdraws from the role of "rules architect." (aa.com.tr) Russian state media, including RIA Novosti in "Global Policy Trends under Trump," link this to a broad tendency toward the "self-liquidation" of American leadership and an opening space for BRICS. (ria.ru)

South African commentators, by contrast, are much less interested in the document’s ideology and more in its practical consequences for Africa. For them "America First" is not an abstract rejection of multilateralism but the closure of HIV clinics, the firing of nurses and threats to lose trade preferences under AGOA. News and analytical pieces widely quote Africanists who call Trump's second presidency "a turn to predatory hegemony": the US remains the most powerful, but instead of public goods it now sells access to its market and aid as a private service. (washingtonpost.com)

The second main block of debate is economic pressure, tariffs and the humanitarian price of US foreign policy. Here South Africa becomes one of the emblematic cases. It was there in 2025 that simultaneous US steps hit public opinion especially hard: the re-imposition of tariffs on South African exports, the sharp cuts to PEPFAR and USAID programs, followed by a forced partial retreat with a "transitional" aid package.

South African media extensively quoted Health Minister Aaron Motsoaledi, who said that due to cuts in American funding more than 8,000 health workers lost their jobs and twelve specialized clinics for key populations—from gay men to sex workers—closed. He said that within months after the funding halt viral load testing fell by 21%, and the UN warned of the risk of rising new infections. (apnews.com) Later, when Washington agreed to a temporary "bridge" package of $115 million, South African officials both thanked the US and stressed that the diplomatic dispute was far from resolved. (apnews.com)

Against this backdrop, voices in Pretoria increasingly say that America is turning from a "development partner" into an unpredictable donor capable of cutting programs on which millions depend, depending on its domestic political cycle. South African health experts explicitly say Washington's financial "pendulum" will push African countries to deepen ties with China and possibly with BRICS as a whole, where South Africa already plays a key role. (apnews.com)

The trade agenda complements this picture. South Africa publicly disputes with the White House over Trump's "unfair balance" thesis, under which 30% tariffs on South African goods were reimposed in 2025. President Cyril Ramaphosa, commenting on these steps, argued that American calculations ignore the structure of bilateral trade and the real tax burden, and pledged to seek a tariff review by diplomatic means. (en.wikipedia.org) At the same time the future of AGOA was discussed; Trump ultimately extended it only through the end of 2026, signaling an intention to "rewrite" the mechanism in the spirit of his reciprocity policy. (apnews.com)

In Turkey the economic aspect of American policy also dominates, but in a different key. There they pay close attention to how the White House uses tariffs and sanctions as geopolitical weapons. A Turkish analytical report by Gedik Yatırım in February 2026, assessing global market risks, highlights increased US tariff pressure not only on China but also on allies—from Canada to South Korea—and warns that trade wars could enter a new phase coinciding with rising tensions around Iran. (gedik.com)

At the same time, Turkish foreign policy columnists analyze how Trump's calls to raise the required NATO defense spending to 5% of GDP would affect Ankara. One such column notes that Turkey will be forced both to increase its military budget and to further develop its own defense industry, and that re-engagement with the F-35 program could be used as a tool to balance between Washington and Moscow. (ekonomim.com)

In Russia tariff wars and US sanction activity are perceived more as background to a more important phenomenon — the strategic shift of power centers. Russian experts, such as the director of IMEMO RAS, told RBC that Trump "is playing a complex hand," using tariffs, technology restrictions and export controls not only against China but also to impose Washington-favorable rules in key sectors—from semiconductors to telecom infrastructure. (rbc.ru) US trade nationalism is seen here not as a deviation but as the new normal, to which Russia must adapt by hastily building alternative supply chains.

The third major theme, where the perspectives of the three countries especially resonate, is the US-led dismantling or reconfiguration of the architecture of international security and institutions. A symbolic milestone here is the expiration on February 5, 2026 of the New START treaty, the last major US–Russian nuclear arms accord, which was not renewed. (ru.wikipedia.org)

In Russia this is presented as the culmination of a long process of treaty erosion blamed on the US. Russian political scientists in analyses for RBC and other outlets explain to their audiences that Washington seeks to "free its hands" to build up capabilities and, at the same time, use arms-control issues as another bargaining chip—now not only with Moscow but also with Beijing. (rbc.ru)

Turkish commentators, for their part, see in this primarily a threat to Europe and NATO’s eastern flank. For them the disappearance of formal limits on strategic arsenals increases the value of regional players — Turkey, Iran, Israel — and raises the stakes in any crisis from the Black Sea to the Eastern Mediterranean. In a Turkish review "Trump Doktrini: Jeopolitik Hesaplar ve Yeni Dünya Düzeni," author Sinem Ünaldılar draws an explicit parallel with the Monroe Doctrine, arguing that the US is trying to close the "backyard" in Latin America to China and Russia while weakening institutional frameworks in other regions, including the Middle East. (globalpanorama.org)

The South African perspective on security and institutions is more mediated but no less telling. Here the focus is not New START but the fate of international organizations and multilateral agreements where the US traditionally played a key role. African analysts fear that the Trump administration's decision to withdraw from dozens of international structures at once and to substantially cut funding to the UN and related agencies will turn the global system of aid and governance into a "mosaic" of private initiatives and regional blocs. (ru.wikipedia.org) For Global South countries this means increased dependency on a few major players — China, the EU, possibly BRICS — instead of a more balanced, albeit asymmetric, US role.

Finally, a special place in foreign reactions is occupied by the topic of Trump’s personal style and motivation. In Russia they readily quote Western analysts who describe the current White House’s foreign policy as a tool for "redirecting money and status" toward the president and his circle. In a piece recounted by the portal Gazeta.press, political scientists Stacy Goddard and Abraham Newman in the New York Times argue that under Trump US national interests are increasingly being supplanted by the interests of a narrow elite, and that a willingness to cut deals with rivals for short-term gains is becoming the norm. (gazeta.press) Russian experts, like Rafael Ordukhanyan, add that such a style makes US foreign policy "one of the most turbulent and unpredictable" in recent history, which, in their view, creates both risks and windows of opportunity for Moscow. (gazeta.ru)

In Turkish and South African texts the image of Trump is less demonized but also far from heroic. In Turkey he is often described as "gerçekçi" — a realist who merely articulates an already occurring shift in power, while at the same time increasing instability around flashpoints like Iran or Latin America. (aa.com.tr) In South Africa he more often appears as a tough businessman for whom tariffs, visa restrictions and humanitarian aid are all elements of one bargain, where the human cost of decisions is a secondary factor. (apnews.com)

What unites the three countries, despite differences in their agendas, is one important intuition: the current US course is not perceived as a temporary "anomaly" but rather as a potential new standard of American power. In Ankara this leads to the conclusion that Turkey must more insistently strengthen its autonomy and play on multiple fields at once — from NATO to BRICS-like formats. In Pretoria there is talk of the need to rebuild health and trade systems so that no single donor, even as powerful as the US, can with a stroke of a pen undo decades of progress. In Moscow they see confirmation of a long-held axiom: the unipolar moment is over, and Russia's task is not simply to survive America's turn inward, but to use it to consolidate its own spheres of influence and rewrite the rules of the game.

Thus a new, often contradictory image of the US is taking shape in the global mind: not an "empire of good" nor merely a "global policeman," but a large, powerful, increasingly self-centered actor to be feared, exploited and, where possible, constrained. And it is precisely on this duality — dependence on the American market and technologies alongside growing distrust of American promises — that many strategic calculations in Turkey, South Africa, Russia and far beyond are being built today.

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How the World Is Adjusting to the New America: Turkey, Ukraine, Australia on Trump

The United States is again at the center of global discussion, but the image of America at the start of 2026 is very different from what the last generation was used to. Donald Trump’s return to the White House, large-scale tariff wars, attempts to reshape the security architecture and pressure on allies make Washington not simply the “leader of the West” but a source of hopes, fears and irritation at the same time. In Turkey, Ukraine and Australia people talk about the U.S. every day, but each country’s agenda is its own: from budget crises and tariffs to the prospects of war and the fate of the world order.

One of the fresh topics was the end of a new mini-shutdown in the U.S.: Turkish economic outlets detailed how Trump signed a budget package that ended a four-day partial shutdown of the federal government, providing funding for key departments until the end of September and only a temporary two-week “patch” for homeland security. Turkish commentators see this not only as a domestic American story but as a symptom of wider budgetary and political instability in a country whose decisions still set the tone for the global economy and security. In Ukrainian and Australian media, far more attention is drawn to two pairings: “U.S. — trade wars and tariffs” and “U.S. — the war in Ukraine and a new understanding of alliance.”

The first major theme uniting all three countries is economic nationalism and the tariff war the Trump administration has launched against practically the entire world. Ukrainian economic commentators are already calculating the consequences: by some estimates, the average rate of American tariffs rose by autumn 2025 to historic highs, which the International Monetary Fund and private analysts interpret as the largest tariff shock since the 1930s, with expected slower growth both in the U.S. and globally. One Ukrainian analyst, in a column on global forecasts for 2026, states: “The Trump administration has launched the largest tariff war since the Great Depression, and this has already put a negative mark on global GDP growth for the coming years,” citing calculations on the drop in U.S. growth and the IMF’s downgraded forecast.(glavcom.ua)

The Australian discussion sounds more down-to-earth and concrete: local media literally measure Trump tariffs in dollars per kilogram of beef and in tenths of a percentage point of national GDP. When Trump’s “day of liberation” in 2025 brought a 10 percent tariff on Australian beef, it seemed this would hit a key export sector. But the result was the opposite: a shortage of U.S. cattle, record demand for “lean” meat and a favorable exchange rate led to a historic record — Australia increased shipments to the U.S. by more than 30 percent in volume and significantly in price, and by year-end beef exports overall approached 1.5 million tonnes for the first time. Meat analyst Simon Quilty told ABC that the tariff “changed almost nothing”: “If tariffs were supposed to discourage shipments to the U.S., the opposite happened with Australia: Americans need our lean beef because they simply don’t have enough of their own.”(abc.net.au)

However, that local success conceals a broader anxiety. In ABC’s analytical pieces and economic commentaries, a repeated thought is that ordinary Australians and businesses are adapting to another round of American protectionism, but the strategic dependence on the U.S. remains a vulnerability. Local experts read IMF forecasts closely, which explicitly warn of a “substantial slowdown” in global growth, including Australia, due to Washington’s tariff policy, and note that in those reports the U.S. is described as “the main sufferer from its own tariffs.”(abc.net.au)

The Ukrainian view of the same U.S. tariff policy is much less pragmatic and far more politicized. For Kyiv, American economic confrontation with China and several other countries is part of a larger picture in which Washington simultaneously pressures adversaries, negotiates with allies and reassembles the rules of the global game. Ukrainian authors link this to Trump’s attempt to build a world where the U.S. is not so much the “leader of the free world” as a “heavy center of gravity,” forcing each neighbor to pay for access to markets and security.

The second major theme is the war in Ukraine and how the U.S. is trying to define its end from its own position. Here the Ukrainian discussion is, naturally, the sharpest and most detailed. In one recent segment Ukrainian TV channels relayed Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s statement that Washington would like to see the war end by the summer of 2026; behind that thesis lies a whole layer of reports about behind-the-scenes consultations between the U.S. and European capitals, as well as rumors of a “roadmap” for ending the war being discussed between American and Russian representatives.(ukr.net)

Ukrainian analysts and invited Western experts respond to these publications with noticeable skepticism. First, it is emphasized that Moscow, through its Foreign Ministry spokeswoman Maria Zakharova, publicly denies receiving any official offers from the U.S., meaning the talks are more likely informal probes. Second, an idea is increasingly voiced that Trump’s “peace plan” would mean pressure on Kyiv for a deal that benefits the White House primarily, not Ukraine. In an interview with a Ukrainian channel, U.S. military expert Mark Cancian bluntly says the Trump administration will continue its current line — selling arms to Europeans while avoiding direct funding, and pushing Europe toward greater responsibility for its own security. “From his point of view, arms sales are good for the U.S. economy and American manufacturing,” Cancian explains, suggesting that the value of Ukraine to Washington is largely seen through economic and domestic-political lenses.(tsn.ua)

For Ukraine’s political class and society, such ally pragmatism is painful. Analytical columns even discuss the prospect of a 2026 Nobel Peace Prize for Trump for a possible “ending of the war” — a scenario many in Kyiv view more as a threat: to secure such a prize, Trump would need a quick and spectacular result, which critics say would almost certainly mean imposing compromises on Ukraine over territory and status. Political scientist Volodymyr Fesenko, in a column on “Trump and the Nobel,” reminds readers that the deadline for nominations for the 2026 Peace Prize is still ahead and predicts that the American president could indeed be a contender if he demonstrates the end of several wars. But in the Ukrainian context this forecast is read as a warning: “peace” in Trump’s version is not necessarily a just peace.(glavcom.ua)

In Turkey, discussion of America’s role in the war in Ukraine is more often woven into a broader knot of topics: Ankara’s competition with Washington in the Black Sea, the fate of the grain deal, the balance within NATO, and the Syrian agenda. At the same time, among the general public attention is currently drawn more to domestic American storylines — from the brief shutdown to financial markets and the dollar exchange rate, which directly affect the Turkish economy. Coverage of the end of the partial federal closure through the signing of the budget package is presented as a reminder: even the chief issuer of the world’s reserve currency is not immune to political paralysis, which means Turkey must be ready for volatility in dollar flows and demand for its exports.(bigpara.hurriyet.com.tr)

The third cross-cutting dimension is the perception of America’s internal stability and political future. Ukrainian media have published translations and adaptations of Western pieces pondering the “future of the U.S. by 2026” and the fears that the founders felt in the 18th–19th centuries, doubting whether the republic would survive serious trials. A piece based on The Economist draws parallels between the anxieties of George Washington and Thomas Jefferson and current doubts about the American system’s ability to withstand Trump’s second term, endless budget wars and bitter polarization.(nv.ua)

Ukrainian commentators read these texts through their own experience: a country whose security critically depends on the U.S. suddenly sees that its pillar itself is cracking. Hence the growing debate about the need to diversify sources of support and to bolster ties not only with Washington but also with Europe. In an interview a Western expert, Scott Lucas, notes that Trump sees the world primarily as a set of deals and economic levers, and predicts a continued course in which the U.S. will tighten sanctions on Russia while expecting allies to finance Ukraine’s defense themselves by buying American weapons.(24tv.ua)

The Australian conversation about America’s political future is less existential but no less attentive. Local trade and security experts argue that the era of postwar “open” American leadership is over, and Canberra now has to work with Washington as a tough, transactional partner. ABC analyses emphasize that China, despite the tariff war, finished 2025 with a record trade surplus of about $1.2 trillion, reorienting exports to Southeast Asia, Africa and Latin America — and this is read as a sign that Trump’s strategy not so much breaks as fragments the world order, opening a niche for China outside the American orbit.(abc.net.au)

For Australia, geographically and economically tied to Asia, this is especially important: American protectionism and confrontation with Beijing push the region toward a new balance in which Canberra will have to navigate between U.S. interests as a security guarantor and China as its main trading partner. Thus discussion of American tariffs and trade wars inevitably turns there into a broader conversation about whether Washington in its new role can still be a reliable “anchor” in the Indo-Pacific.

Turkey has its own unique angles that rarely make the English-language agenda. Here the image of the U.S. is formed simultaneously by experience of working together in NATO, sharp conflicts (from U.S. support for Kurdish forces in Syria to disputes over purchases of Russian S-400s) and watchful attention to American influence in the Black Sea region. Turkish newspapers, largely aimed at a domestic audience, present American budget dramas, trade conflicts and confrontation with China as further confirmation that the world has entered a “multipolar era,” in which Ankara wants to play an independent role without dissolving into either the American or Chinese orbit. Therefore any manifestation of weakness or chaos in Washington — from a shutdown to protracted trade wars — is read in Turkey as an argument for a more independent course.

There is also a subtler layer of perception of the U.S. — cultural and political. In Ukraine, recent high-profile criminal cases in America, including the resonant murder of a Ukrainian refugee, became the occasion to discuss American racial and migration problems and how the U.S. itself copes with polarization and violence. In a piece about how that murder was turned into a “weapon of political wars” and sparked a racial scandal, Ukrainian journalists emphasize the ambiguity of America’s image: a country that helps Ukraine fight for democracy is itself mired in fierce cultural wars and vulnerable to its own prejudices.(tsn.ua)

If you try to bring these different voices into a single chorus, a complex, contradictory picture emerges. For Ukraine, the U.S. remains a vital but increasingly unpredictable ally, one to be argued and bargained with, not only thanked for support. For Australia, America is a powerful but not omnipotent economic and military partner whose protectionist policy simultaneously brings short-term gains to certain sectors and creates long-term risks for the whole global trading system. For Turkey, the U.S. is an important but no longer dominant pole whose internal chaos and external jolts are used by Ankara as arguments for a more independent, “nationalized” foreign policy.

What unites all these countries and discussions is that no one looks at the U.S. anymore as a homogeneous, reliable and predictable center of the world order. Trump’s America is a bundle of deals, blackmail, impulsive decisions and, at the same time, colossal economic and military weight. Turkish, Ukrainian and Australian authors are learning to read this new America pragmatically: to count tariffs and GDP percentages, analyze Nobel Committee deadlines and electoral cycles in Washington, weigh how much military support costs and what concessions will be asked for it. This is no longer naive faith in the “city on a hill,” but neither is it simple anti-American rhetoric: we face a world in which each country, from Ankara to Kyiv and Canberra, builds its own increasingly complex and critical relations with the U.S. — understanding that without America they cannot do for now, but they also cannot rely on it “as before.”

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"America trades over peace, argues about free speech and presses with tariffs": how Europe and Asia...

In early February, the United States again finds itself at the center of attention in European and Korean media — but not as the unquestioned leader of the “collective West.” Three interrelated stories come to the fore: an American push to accelerate peace talks on Ukraine and fit them into a strict deadline; an increasingly ambivalent attitude toward the US role in Europe’s security architecture; and, in Asia, growing concern about protectionism and Washington’s pressure on other countries’ digital sovereignty. Germany, France and South Korea are debating — both among themselves and internally — not whether they “need America,” but what America has become and how to live with it now.

The loudest news is Volodymyr Zelensky’s statement that the US wants to see an end to the war in Ukraine by June 2026 and has invited Ukrainian and Russian negotiating teams to a new round of talks in the United States, most likely in Miami. French outlets such as Le Parisien report this, emphasizing that Washington is setting a deadline “by early summer” and is ready to “push” the parties to meet the timetable; Euronews also covers the story in detail, examining American proposals including turning Donbass into a “free economic zone” as part of a potential compromise. In the Ukrainian framing quoted by French media, the US is already acting not only as the main military donor but also as the architect of a postwar arrangement, up to discussions of multi‑trillion economic packages for Russia and Ukraine in exchange for a peace deal — a line of analysis Euronews links to the so‑called “Dmitriev package,” proposed by Russian emissary Kirill Dmitriev. In this narrative America appears simultaneously as an indispensable mediator and a force feared for striking a deal with Moscow “about peace without Ukraine” behind Kyiv’s back. Zelensky, cited by both Le Parisien and Boursorama, stresses that Kyiv will not accept any agreement made “about us without us,” above all on territorial questions.

The German press senses primarily a shift in the American position and asks what this means for European security. Reports and newsfeeds like those in Die Zeit underline that the US “demanded Ukraine and Russia agree to end the war by June” and is preparing to hold a three‑way round of talks on its soil for the first time. German readers see both a chance to reduce the risk of escalation and a worrying sign: if Washington begins to tie support strictly to a willingness to compromise, Europe may face a fait accompli peace whose terms were set in Washington and Abu Dhabi rather than in Brussels and Berlin. Against this backdrop darker scenarios appear in Germany — for example, modeling a situation where, after a peace forced on Ukraine, Russia re‑concentrates forces and attacks Lithuania while the US “distances” itself, a simulation described in Die Welt’s “Was wäre, wenn Russland uns angreift?” In this imagined crisis, Washington, preoccupied with its bargaining, leaves Europe in a strategic vacuum, and German participants in the wargame conclude that without early and decisive deterrence Europe risks being left alone against a revisionist Russia — this is no longer abstract talk about “strategic autonomy,” but an attempt to answer the question: what if the US really doesn’t come?

The French debate over the June “deadline” is much less hysterical but no less suspicious of American motives. News segments on TF1 Info and other channels present Zelensky’s announcement that “the United States wants the war to end ‘by early summer’ and invited both delegations to talks in the US” alongside reminders of previous Washington initiatives — from ideas of limited truces to talks about security guarantees. French observers draw parallels with American logic: the White House is willing to invest in peace but primarily views it through the prism of domestic political cycles and its own society’s fatigue with the conflict. As Le Parisien emphasizes, Zelensky publicly sets “red lines” in response: no backroom deals between Washington and Moscow over territory will satisfy Kyiv. For a French audience this resonates as a reminder of a colonial past: you cannot decide the fate of a third country in metropolitan centers. Thus, within France — where there is already debate over the scale of support for Ukraine and Paris’s role in Europe — the news that the US is setting a deadline for the war fuels discussion about how much Europeans should allow Washington to dictate the pace and terms of peace.

On the second major theme — NATO’s future and the place of the US in European security — European texts have become noticeably tougher toward Washington. The influence of a new Trump‑2 administration is felt in the background: American signals of “conditional” support for NATO and demands that Europeans pay more and behave “more obediently” provoke, on one hand, irritation and on the other, a forced sobering-up. A British debate aimed at all of Europe on the pages of the Financial Times sums up this shift well: in a reader letter titled “If Nato is on fire, Trump is just the accelerant,” Robert Clark argues that erosion of American commitment to the alliance began long before Trump, and Europeans systematically ignored warnings and did not prepare for a scenario of partial “American withdrawal.” He urges Europe to acknowledge that “the era of unquestioned American primacy is over” and that declaring “strategic autonomy” while relying on the US as insurance against all threats no longer works. In the German context this idea intersects with the Die Welt simulation mentioned earlier: if the US is not prepared to automatically plug every gap, Berlin and Brussels will have to build their own deterrent architecture.

However, as Peter Pomerantsev’s FT analysis about the need for a “community of democracies” shows, many European writers still imagine this architecture in conjunction with the US, only in a more “mature” format: America is wanted not as a “world policeman” but as a senior partner among equals, alongside the EU, Canada, Japan and, paradoxically, Ukraine itself as a future military and technological hub. In this sense European criticism of the US is not antagonistic but demanding: America must stop wavering and decide — is it with the democracies for the long haul or only as long as that aligns with the immediate interests of the administration in Washington.

The third direction along which Europe is listening to the US today concerns not tanks and missiles but the informational and ideological sphere. The Financial Times recently reported on a State Department plan to fund think tanks and charitable organizations in Europe sympathetic to the MAGA movement, to promote American positions on “free speech” and to fight what Washington considers repressive EU rules on digital platforms. The article describes the tour of Deputy Assistant Secretary for Public Diplomacy Sara Rogers to European capitals, her meetings with right‑wing forces like Britain’s Reform UK and her sharp criticism of laws such as the UK’s Online Safety Act and the EU’s Digital Services Act. European commentators quoted by the FT see this not as classic US “soft power” in the spirit of civil society support, but as an attempt at ideological intervention: under the slogan of protecting “the American conception of free speech,” Washington is effectively siding with large American IT companies, which the EU is trying to subject to additional moderation, transparency and tax obligations. For the left‑liberal segment of the European public this is an example of how America uses its influence to weaken European digital sovereignty, while for right‑wing Euroskeptics it is a welcome ally against “Brussels bureaucracy.” In any case, the US again becomes a crystallization point for internal European splits.

Notably, French press often distinguishes between two Americas — the institutional and the “Trumpist.” Official Washington, pushing for Ukraine talks, and the State Department, criticizing European digital laws, are perceived as inevitable partners; while MAGA campaigns in Europe are seen as a softer but dangerous erosion of the European political field. In that sense Europe’s anxieties echo the Korean experience: in Seoul they, too, remember well that a change of occupant in the White House radically alters not only tone but substance of American foreign policy.

In South Korea, America is now perceived primarily through the prism of economic pressure and disputes over digital sovereignty. Leading economic outlets such as Maeil Kyungje recall Donald Trump’s recent statements about possible imposition of 25 percent “reciprocal tariffs” on Korean goods, potentially extending to cars, pharmaceuticals and, in more extreme scenarios, semiconductors and energy resources. Analytical coverage in Maeil Kyungje unfolds a whole scenario of a “new era of protectionism,” where US tariff increases trigger retaliatory measures by China and the EU, and Korean exports, critically dependent on the US market, are put at risk. The authors note that such threats have already been voiced and stress that even if the most extreme measures are not ultimately implemented, Washington’s readiness to use tariffs as a tool of political blackmail has become a constant variable Seoul must adapt to.

At the same time Korean media are actively discussing another conflict with the US — over changes to Korea’s law on networks and online platforms, the so‑called “anti‑disinformation law” (정보통신망법 개정안). As Maeil Kyungje reports, the US State Department in early January expressed “serious concern” that the new rules could negatively affect the business of “US‑based online platforms” and weaken freedom of expression. Seoul insists the law is aimed at protecting users and does not discriminate against particular countries or companies. An editorial column on the Daum portal states that the ruling party “pushed through” the law, effectively ignoring warnings that it could become “the fuse for a trade conflict with the US,” and now risks facing both pressure from American authorities and displeasure from global IT giants. For a Korean audience this recalls European debates on digital regulation, but with an important difference: Europe at least has its own digital champions and economic weight, while Korea fears being squeezed between American and Chinese platforms and losing space for its own regulatory policy.

Korean analytical programs, such as Yonhap News TV’s report on the war in Ukraine and the US role, paint an even more complex picture. The piece highlights that Russia continues to increase strikes on Ukraine’s energy infrastructure precisely as talks on a ceasefire are underway, while the US, “advocating peace,” avoids more active intervention that could change the balance on the battlefield. For a Korean viewer the familiar motif is audible: America supports an ally but carefully meters the degree of involvement, primarily based on its own risks. Seoul projects the Ukrainian case onto its own situation with North Korea and China: how far is the US willing to go to defend an ally if that risks direct confrontation with a nuclear power?

It is interesting that in Korean discourse, as in European discourse, criticism of the US does not mean rejection of the alliance. On the contrary, comments often rest on the idea that this is precisely why the ally must be predictable and consistent. When the US State Department first warns of free speech risks from a Korean law and then pushes in Europe and Korea for terms more favorable to its tech giants on trade and data protection, this is perceived not as an abstract ideological dispute but as a concrete struggle for control over data, advertising and markets.

There is also a softer line of discussion of the US, visible for example in German political commentary: a comparison of economic dynamics. In a Die Welt article about Chancellor Friedrich Merz’s foreign policy ambitions, it is said that one of his central tasks is to close the “growth gap” with the US and China and, within Europe, to push for deregulation, strengthening the single market and new trade agreements to restore competitiveness. In this context the US serves not only as a foreign policy but also an economic benchmark: Germany recognizes that under the American “Inflation Reduction Act” and the pull of investment into green and high‑tech industry, Europe will have to either adapt or lose out.

Against this backdrop even seemingly “outside‑the‑system” stories, like German Interior Minister Alexander Dobrindt’s refusal to support a boycott of the 2026 World Cup in the US, Canada and Mexico, take on political significance. In an interview quoted by WELT he says he does not think it right to “politicize sport,” even as he criticizes practices of the US immigration agency ICE. In polemics with Greens and some SPD members calling for a boycott, the word “US” becomes symbolic: for some it represents double standards on human rights, for others it remains a necessary partner — someone to argue with, but not to burn bridges with.

If one tries to bring these disparate groans, hopes and threats into a single chorus, a paradoxical picture emerges. In German, French and Korean perspectives the US simultaneously plays four roles. First, it is an indispensable pillar of security — from Ukraine to the Korean Peninsula — without which no deterrence architecture looks reliable. Second, it is an increasingly tough trade and technological competitor, ready to use tariffs, regulatory pressure and an ideological discourse about “free speech” to push the interests of its companies. Third, it is an internal factor in European and Asian politics: America’s presence or absence in any given issue — from a networks law to a football championship — automatically divides audiences and parties into camps. And finally, fourth, it is a country undergoing an identity crisis whose internal conflicts (MAGA vs. liberals, “deep state” vs. “the people,” as Trump supporters see it) are increasingly projected outward — through choice of allies, diplomacy style and control over the information space.

What is clearly lacking in discussions in Berlin, Paris and Seoul is a sense of long‑term clarity. European and Korean analysts are now almost unanimous in recognizing that the era of “automatic guarantees” from the US is over. But the answer to what exactly will replace it — a new, more equal configuration of democracies led by the same United States, regional blocs with weaker but still significant American support, or a fragmented world where Washington becomes just one among several major players alongside Beijing and possibly Delhi — is still being sought. Meanwhile Germany, France and South Korea are learning the same uncomfortable lesson: to look at America not as a myth but as a complex, contradictory and, above all, not omnipotent partner with whom they will have to negotiate more hardheadedly and think about their own Plan Bs — from Baltic defense to steel tariffs and social‑media moderation rules.

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How the World Disputes with America: Middle East, Tariff Wars and Washington's New...

At the beginning of 2026, the United States appears in the headlines of Brazilian, French and Russian media along several lines of conflict and influence. This is not a single big scandal but an overlay of several narratives: the rapid deployment of US forces in the Middle East, a new wave of Washington protectionism and tariff wars, a hard line against Venezuela and China, and — more deeply — a debate about whether the US is turning into the "United States of the World," reshaping the global order to suit its interests. In Brazil this is viewed through the prism of Global South sovereignty and economic vulnerability; in France — through fear of the collapse of the multilateral trading system and pressure on European manufacturers; in Russia — through the traditional lens of resisting American hegemony and security threats.

One of the most discussed topics across all three spheres has been US military activity in the Persian Gulf amid the crisis in Iran. In the Russian-language segment they examine in detail the January deployment of a US carrier strike group led by the Abraham Lincoln and the incident with a downed Iranian drone, which was destroyed by an F‑35C fighter with no US losses. Russian materials emphasize that this is a link in a chain of escalation rather than an isolated episode: the deployment is presented as a step toward consolidating US military presence in a zone where war rages and internal protests are flaring in Iran. In this logic, Washington appears not as a guarantor of stability but as a factor that increases the risk of direct confrontation.(ru.wikipedia.org)

Brazilian analysts, discussing the conflicts of 2026 "from the perspective of Latin America," draw parallels between the current US display of force in the Persian Gulf and a tradition of more than a century of Washington's interventions in the politics of the Western Hemisphere. In a Portuguese-language piece by Vatican News devoted to historical crises of the early 20th century, they recall how the Monroe Doctrine and later Roosevelt's "corollary" legitimized "preventive" US interventions in the Caribbean under the pretext of protecting against European powers — and how this became a long-term mechanism of domination. The piece also makes a transparent hint that contemporary military operations and blockade logic toward "unwanted" regimes in other regions of the world are a continuation of that same tradition, shifted from the Caribbean to the Persian Gulf.(vaticannews.va)

In France, the Middle East in the current cycle of discussions is linked to another key theme — the US trade and economic wars. Military deployments in the East are described as an element of a broader strategy of pressure and coercion, where tariffs and sanctions are as important a weapon as aircraft carriers. It is Washington's tariff policy that particularly worries Paris and Brussels now, and French experts analyze it as a "radical change of course" in which security and economic agendas have merged. Under UN and French government reviews they examine in detail how the Washington administration uses the International Emergency Economic Powers Act to justify additional duties, including under the pretexts of combating illegal migration and fentanyl.(unctad.org)

Trade wars and tariffs are the second major linking theme for Brazil, France and Russia. From the French point of view, the US has become the center of a historically unprecedented protectionist turn. A Banque de France study notes that since January 2025 the US average effective tariff has risen sharply, reaching about 45% vis‑à‑vis China, with hits falling on steel, aluminum, automobiles and other sectors in which both China and European manufacturers are strong. The authors stress that exporters have had to partly "absorb" the price increases — cutting their own margins to avoid losing the American market.(banque-france.fr)

French and pan‑European commercial analysts paint a similar picture from another angle. In an Allianz Trade study, US tariff policy with Donald Trump's return to the White House is described as a "resumption of trade war at a new rate." Economist Ana Boata warns that the planned increase of tariffs to 25% on Chinese goods and an additional 5% on the "rest of the world" (excluding Mexico and Canada) could cost world trade 0.6 percentage points of growth in 2026 alone, and in a hypothetical "total trade war" scenario losses would be much more severe. In this narrative the US appears not merely as another protectionist player but as a global shock generator upon whose decisions EU value chains depend.(allianz-trade.com)

In Russia, Washington's trade policy resonates primarily through currency and commodity channels. Russian and Russia‑aligned business media explain to readers that new US duties against European allies, as well as against China and NAFTA countries, will most likely lead to a stronger dollar and increased volatility in financial markets. In one such analytical commentary published on the Seldon platform, the introduction of new tariffs is directly described as a "classic trade war scenario" that slows European economies and creates short‑ and medium‑term support for the US currency. They also cite Goldman Sachs estimates suggesting that a sharp dollar weakening should not be expected in 2026 despite cyclical risks.(myseldon.com)

Against this background Russian forex analysts closely monitor the Fed's actions and the "unpredictability of Trump and the White House." In one recent review of the S&P 500 it is noted that the market prices in continued tightening to control inflation and a stronger dollar, but at the same time fears "geopolitical events happening in the world and unexpected, for the most part, actions by Trump and the White House." For Russian investors, in this discourse the US is not a stable anchor of the global economy but a source of political risk to which they must adapt.(instaspot.com)

Brazilian business discourse gives yet another facet to the same storyline. In January clippings by the Steel Institute (INDA) Brazilian industrialists and foreign trade experts discuss how a new wave of international conflicts and an election year in Brazil could create an "explosive mix" for the real exchange rate and trading conditions. They also emphasize that the trade balance with the US in 2025 shifted from a small surplus to a significant deficit of $7.5 billion, while relations with China and the EU also deteriorated, partly under the influence of the global tariff climate. In a column on the expected conclusion of the Mercosur–EU agreement, former Portuguese prime minister António Costa, responding to a Brazilian journalist, calls the deal "a message in favor of multilateralism and free trade" against Donald Trump's "tarifaço" — a term the Brazilian author picks up almost ironically: "tarifaço imposto pelo presidente Trump – digo eu".(inda.org.br)

For a Brazilian audience, the US in this narrative is not only a giant market but a partner capable at any moment of reshaping the rules of the game. Therefore support for the Mercosur–EU agreement in the local press is explained not only by economic benefits but also by the desire to reduce structural dependence on the US and China, using Europe as a counterweight to Washington's protectionist impulses. Hence the special attention to France's position: Paris, acting as a brake on ratification of the deal, simultaneously criticizes American protectionism but fears cheap agricultural imports from South America that could undermine French farmers. To Brazilian commentators this appears as another example of Western double standards, in which the US sets the tone while the EU is stuck between the desire to shield itself and the ambition to lead on free trade.

A third important theme, where reactions are particularly sharp in Brazil and Russia, is the US hard line toward Venezuela and, more broadly, the sovereignty of Global South countries. In an analytical essay on the Brazilian portal A Pátria, "United States Military Intervention in Venezuela, 2026" is considered the culmination of years of escalation. The author describes in detail how in 2025 the Donald Trump administration intensified strikes on targets in the Caribbean and the Pacific, linking them to alleged "narcoterrorist" structures, and used blockade and sanctions to achieve regime change in Caracas. The text states that many international lawyers and human rights organizations regarded these actions as a gross violation of the principles of sovereignty and territorial integrity enshrined in the UN Charter, and as a dangerous precedent for "unitary use of force by a hegemon."(apatria.org)

For the Brazilian reader this criticism of the US is particularly sensitive: intervention in the internal affairs of neighboring Venezuela is perceived not only as a trauma for Caracas but as a threat to the regional order built around Latin America's autonomy. Washington's rhetoric about fighting corruption and drug trafficking is, in this interpretation, seen as a convenient moral veneer for classic regime‑change policy. Threads are tied to recent historical memory of American support for coups and military dictatorships in the region, so the 2026 military operation easily fits into a long line of suspicions.

Russian commentators, for their part, see in the Venezuelan case and the broader US sanction pressure confirmation of the thesis about the "United States of the World." In EADaily analysis about how Western corporations use peripheral economies, expert Musabayev argues that outside actors — primarily from the US and the UK — arrive in resource‑rich countries with a prewritten agenda, dictate conditions and turn local assets into appendages of global financial schemes. His conclusion is sharp: on the eve of a new global financial crisis "one should not rely on Washington or London," and countries like Kyrgyzstan need to learn to develop projects themselves and take them to international markets, otherwise they will remain raw‑material appendages to someone else's agenda.(eadaily.com)

Through the prism of Venezuela and similar cases, Russian commentators portray the US as the center of a network where military, financial and legal power operate in sync: first sanctions and legal constructs like extraterritorial norms on anti‑corruption and drug enforcement, then economic strangulation, and if necessary, limited military actions. This resonates strongly both among parts of Russian society and in elite circles, where the theme of "color revolutions under the American umbrella" remains a basic explanatory scheme of world politics.

In France the Venezuelan case is less visible and far weaker than the story of tariffs and protectionism, but another original line appears here — discussion of the transformation of the United States itself on the occasion of its 250th anniversary. A Brazilian piece about the much‑discussed cover of The Economist's "The World Ahead 2026" was a reason in Brazilian discourse to consider what American democracy means for the rest of the world today. On the cover, as journalist Ediogley Levi writes for ACNoticia68, the planet is depicted as a "caustic ball" of wars, AI and crises, and a giant cake with the number "250" — a celebration of US independence — from which a "blue fist in handcuffs" emerges next to a cracked judge's gavel. This is, in essence, a visual comment on the idea that America celebrates its anniversary while trapped in its own polarization and the judicial battle around Trump.(acnoticia68.net.br)

The Brazilian author notes that alongside symbols of crisis stand images of Lula and Trump as two poles of the "chaos of 2026" — one representing Global South politics, the other the return of populist nationalism in the heart of the West. This is a rare example of Brazilian press putting Brazil and the US on the same symbolic plane, showing: from Washington to Brasília democratic institutions face similar strains — disinformation, leader personalization, social networks, and an increasing role of courts in politics. In this discourse the US is no longer only a source of threats and protectionism but also a "mirror" in which the Global South sees its own problems.

French analysis adds a purely economic dimension to that mirror. In a Ministry of Finance publication on the "stability of the import price index since Trump's return," an interesting conclusion is drawn: despite rising tariffs and a weakening dollar, US import prices in 2025 hardly rose because foreign suppliers were forced to compress their own margins. That is, American consumers and businesses are relatively protected in the short term, while the burden of the trade war falls on exporters — including from the EU. This feeds a sense in Paris of injustice and asymmetry: Washington can afford "strategic protectionism" because its market is so large that partners are willing to swallow part of the costs just to keep access.(tresor.economie.gouv.fr)

In Russia this is overlaid with the perception of the US as an economic "crisis magnet." Financial commentaries emphasize that in 2026 the US small‑cap market, measured by the Russell 2000 index, became the main beneficiary of expectations of a domestic economic boom in the US, while cryptocurrency lost part of its alluring halo. One analytical review notes that the Russell 2000 in January exceeded 2,600 points for the first time and rose roughly 7–8% year‑to‑date, while bitcoin fell below the psychological $75k mark and the crypto "fear and greed index" entered an "extreme fear" zone. The author's conclusion: under tight monetary policy investors again prefer "understandable" American assets rather than speculative crypto.(teletype.in)

This coincides with assessments by several international houses that are revising US GDP growth forecasts upward thanks to resilient consumer demand and tax refunds, expecting only a gradual easing of monetary policy. Russia views this shift pragmatically: on one hand a strong US economy means higher rates and a strong dollar, worsening external conditions for emerging markets; on the other hand it confirms the multivector nature of American influence: Washington can simultaneously ramp up protectionism and remain a magnet for capital.(fxstreet.ru.com)

Bringing together these three perspectives — Brazilian, French and Russian — a complex and contradictory international image of the United States in early 2026 emerges. In Brazil the dominant themes are Global South sovereignty and vulnerability: the US is both a key trading partner and a source of tariff and military shocks in the region, from Venezuela to the Caribbean. At the same time American democracy is seen as a symptomatic example of how even old republics can drown in their own polarization — a lesson Latin America projects onto itself. In France the focus is the protectionist revolution of Washington and its consequences for European manufacturers: the US is seen not as the backbone of the liberal order but as an increasingly selfish hegemon using tariffs and sanctions as instruments of coercive policy. In Russia, alongside traditional narratives about US military threat and interference, there is an image of a financial and technological "center of gravity" on which world markets, the fate of the dollar and the investment cycle in artificial intelligence depend.

The common denominator of these three views is that the US is no longer perceived as a predictable "anchor" of the world system. For Brazil Washington is a partner whose decisions can upend regional balance; for France a NATO ally whose tariffs and sanctions hit the European economy; for Russia the main systemic rival whose military and financial activity is viewed as a threat. Yet despite the differences, almost nowhere is the US still seen as a neutral arbiter or a "world policeman" for the good of all humanity; rather it is a superpower waging "wars of choice" — tariff, currency, military — and forcing others to adapt to its domestic politics and electoral cycles. In that sense, when a Russian analyst writes about the transformation of the United States of America into the "United States of the World," he may capture not only the military but also the regulatory, financial and cultural scale of American presence most accurately — which is why disputes about the US today are so acute from Rio to Paris and from Moscow to Bishkek.

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How the World Sees America Today: India, Israel and Turkey

In early February 2026, conversations about America in the foreign press turned tense and contradictory again. In New Delhi they are debating how far they can go in strategic rapprochement with Washington without losing autonomy and their relations with Moscow. In Israel, society scrutinizes every gesture from the White House, trying to determine whether the US is truly prepared to push Benjamin Netanyahu’s government on the Gaza war. In Turkey, the United States remains both an indispensable security partner and a source of irritation, especially regarding Washington’s Middle East policy and the Palestinian issue. One theme runs through all of this: the world perceives the US less and less as a “neutral arbiter” and more and more as a player whose decisions directly interfere in domestic and regional agendas.

The loudest news of the past week was the US‑India agreements on trade and oil. Back in 2025, the 25 percent additional tariffs on Indian imports introduced by the Donald Trump administration were portrayed in India as punishment for purchases of cheap Russian oil and were directly linked in US documents to the task of “countering threats” from Moscow and its partners. Indian experts at the time warned that such steps “would push India to reconsider its strategic orientation, deepening ties with Russia and China,” as Ajay Shrivastava, former trade representative of the Global Trade Research Initiative, recounted for The New York Times.(ria.ru) A common theme in the Indian press in 2025 was that Washington was applying sanctions pressure without fully understanding that New Delhi’s strategic autonomy had not been built yesterday and could not be torn down by a single trade war.

February 2026 shows a different picture. After a tense bargaining phase, the White House announced the removal of those 25 percent tariffs effective February 7, directly linking this to “New Delhi’s cessation of purchases of Russian oil,” according to the presidential decree.(ria.ru) Russian agencies, relaying the decision, emphasize this aspect — the story is presented as an example of successful US pressure that forced an important partner of Moscow to “choose a side.” But the Indian reaction is more nuanced. In New Delhi officials emphasize something else entirely: Foreign Minister Subrahmanyam Jaishankar, summing up his visit to the US, speaks of “positive dynamics” and the expansion of a framework agreement on trade and technology, trying not to highlight concessions on oil but rather to showcase gains in market access and technology.(ria.ru)

Notably, the joint US‑India statement did not contain an explicit clause committing to cease purchases of Russian oil. Russian media focus precisely on that: “the statement does not mention a renunciation of Russian oil,” emphasizing that New Delhi avoids formal obligations even if it practically redirects part of its imports.(ria.ru) For the Indian audience that is an important detail: the government shows voters that it defends the principle of strategic autonomy — yes, we gain from the deal with Washington, but we do not sign on to strict political conditions.

Indian commentators in the English‑language and Hindi press describe this as an example of a “transactional partnership.” New Delhi demonstrates readiness to accommodate the US where it aligns with national interest: expanded export quotas, access to American technologies, cooperation in AI and defense. At the same time, there is active domestic debate about how to avoid becoming a “junior ally.” A telling column in the business press emphasized: “America is a key technological partner for India, but not its only strategic anchor.” Against the background of data showing that the US and India already generate nearly a quarter of global ChatGPT traffic, with Indian office workers using AI even more actively than Americans,(thinktanks.pro) the discussion of the US as a technological hegemon acquires a social dimension for India: from education systems to the labor market.

For Turkey, the same America is not a top trading partner but primarily an indispensable factor of regional security and simultaneously the main external irritant amid the protracted Gaza war. Since autumn 2025 Turkish media and expert circles have been dissecting President Donald Trump’s initiatives to halt hostilities. When the American leader said that Israel had allegedly agreed to a 60‑day ceasefire in Gaza, Anadolu and several analysts in Turkish publications described it as an attempt to pressure both sides rather than the result of a full-fledged agreement. In its piece Anadolu stressed that the Israeli press sees Trump’s words as “an attempt to force Tel Aviv and Hamas to agree to an American post‑war plan for the Gaza Strip.”(aa.com.tr)

To the Turkish public in this story, the US is not a peacemaker but the initiator of its own political project in post‑war Gaza intended to cement American influence in the region. Turkish commentators, especially those close to the ruling Justice and Development Party, draw parallels with previous American initiatives in Iraq and Syria, warning that “whenever Washington talks about stability, it means reformatting the region to suit its own interests.” In liberal and opposition media the tone is different: they criticize the Israeli government and call for using “even halfhearted US pressure” to accelerate an end to the war. But here too there are few illusions about Washington’s altruism: America is viewed as a “necessary but unreliable partner” capable of changing course at any moment for domestic political gain.

The Israeli discourse on America is even more ambivalent. On the one hand, Israel objectively depends on the US militarily, diplomatically and financially. On the other — questions about the limits of that dependence are increasingly loud in Israeli media and expert circles. When Israeli media reported in 2025 that the Trump administration had delivered a clear signal to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu about the desirability of ending the Gaza war and presented a detailed 21‑point plan to do so, it was framed explicitly as pressure from an ally rather than gentle advice.(aa.com.tr) Israeli channel KAN reported on meetings between Trump’s special envoy Steve Whitkoff and his son‑in‑law Jared Kushner with Netanyahu in New York, emphasizing that Washington was not merely mediating but offering its own political “roadmap” for the post‑war order.

In Israeli commentary in Haaretz and other outlets this elicits mixed reactions. Liberal columnists welcome greater US activism, seeing it as a chance to stop the protracted war and prevent Israel’s international isolation. Conservative and religious circles, conversely, speak of the inadmissibility of “external diktat,” even when it comes from the principal ally. One political scientist on Israeli television phrased it this way: “American support is our strategic air. But if that air turns into a hurricane that sweeps the government away during a military crisis, we have to ask who really runs the country.” For some voters, in this logic, the US becomes a sort of “senior partner” demanding not only tactical concessions but a reorganization of Israel’s internal political field.

In Turkey there is parallel close attention to the same dynamics but from a completely different angle. Turkish commentators write that intensified American pressure on Israel over Gaza may open maneuvering space for Ankara: Erdoğan is trying to balance criticizing Israel’s military campaign with maintaining dialogue with Washington and NATO. In this sense, American Gaza initiatives are perceived in the Turkish agenda as a factor indirectly affecting Turkey’s regional standing, its claims to be a protector of the Palestinians and a mediator between the Islamic world and the West.

Another line of debate about America is attempts to reinterpret the very nature of its global leadership. In several Eurasian analytical pieces the US is described not so much as a nation‑state as a center of a global governance system — “the United States of the World.” In one recent text on the analytic site EADaily it is argued that, amid an impending global financial crisis, Washington and allied London are transforming their role, seeking to control not only military‑political alliances but also the architecture of future digital currencies, energy flows and AI platforms. The authors warn that Asian countries should not rely excessively on the American “umbrella” and must develop regional mechanisms of mutual support.(eadaily.com)

This view, though tinged with anti‑Western rhetoric, unexpectedly resonates with far more pragmatic discussions in India. There, behind dry formulations about “deepening cooperation with the US” lies growing concern: does dependence on American technologies — from cloud computing to AI services — risk becoming a new form of inequality, where the rules of the game are dictated from Silicon Valley and Washington? Some Indian experts see a close technological alliance with the US as a chance for a leap forward and to secure the country’s status as a global digital power. Others warn: if the architecture of these platforms is not sufficiently “Indian” — accounting for languages, cultural specifics and local business interests — New Delhi risks becoming a large but dependent consumer of foreign infrastructure.

In the Turkish and Israeli contexts similar worries emerge in a different domain — defense and intelligence cooperation. Turkish commentators have debated for years how deeply Ankara should integrate into American missile defense systems, intelligence networks and arms programs after the crisis over the purchase of Russian S‑400s. Israeli analysts ask whether their country is too tightly woven into the American military and technological ecosystem, when any change in Washington’s political climate could directly undermine its ability to conduct operations in the region.

A unifying motif across articles, columns and expert debates from Delhi to Tel Aviv and Ankara is not a rejection of America or simple anti‑Americanism, but the search for a new formula balancing dependence and autonomy. India uses American pressure as an occasion to publicly reaffirm its multi‑vector course, negotiating for a better deal while avoiding formal political concessions, as with the wording on Russian oil. Israel, paradoxically, more often speaks of the need for “sovereignty even in the face of an ally” when it comes to scenarios for ending the war and the post‑war arrangement of Gaza. Turkey seeks to turn any American initiatives in the region into a resource to strengthen its own role — from Afghanistan to the Eastern Mediterranean — while emphasizing historical wounds tied to Western intervention.

Within the American media environment these debates often remain almost invisible: Washington still tends to think in terms of “leadership” and “responsibility,” while foreign partners and opponents increasingly speak of the “costs of dependence” and the “risks of a unipolar infrastructure.” A careful reading of Indian, Israeli and Turkish texts shows that the main change of recent years is not the number of contradictions with the US but the tone: even when countries agree with Washington, they strive to state conditions and red lines out loud. And in this new, much more talkative world, America remains a superpower — but no longer one whose decisions are automatically applauded; rather one that is constantly argued with, bargained with, and being learned to be seen not as destiny but as a complicated, if indispensable, partner.

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Asia's view of the US: India, China and Japan react

In early February, leading Asian media focused on several US-related storylines at once — threads that in the United States are often treated separately but that from abroad combine into a single picture. For India, the key issue is a new trade‑energy deal with Washington and the question of how safe it is for Delhi to tie its energy security to American terms. For China, it is another, even if brief, federal government shutdown and the escalation of Washington’s trade‑tariff policy, which in Beijing is already being described directly as “关税战” — a tariff war. Japanese discourse is traditionally more restrained, but there, too, the sense is growing that political instability in the US and a hard trade line are undermining America’s role as a predictable leader.

On the surface are the headlines about a US–India deal. President Donald Trump announced that Washington is reducing additional tariffs against India, introduced in 2025 and then bringing cumulative duties to roughly 50%, down to about 18% in exchange for India “stopping imports of Russian oil” and switching to purchases of American energy resources and possibly supplies from Venezuela. Russian and Chinese outlets, citing Trump’s statements and sources in Washington, relayed the White House message: the US had achieved another “victorious” reorientation of energy flows in its favor. Meduza noted that after a conversation with Narendra Modi, Trump directly stated that the Indian prime minister “agreed to stop buying Russian oil and to buy much more in the United States and possibly in Venezuela” in exchange for reduced tariffs on Indian goods in the US and other trade concessions. Presented this way, the deal is framed for audiences as part of Washington’s energy strategy and simultaneously as an element of pressure on Moscow and Beijing via the Indian direction.

However, the tone in Delhi itself is noticeably different. The Indian news agency Press Trust of India, cited, for example, by EADaily, conveyed the position of government sources: this is not about a full cessation of Russian oil but about “limiting purchases” within the framework of agreements with the US in exchange for tariff reductions. According to Indian and Russian economic publications, in January 2026 India had already reduced imports of Russian oil by about three and a half times compared with a year earlier, compensating volumes with supplies from the US and Middle Eastern countries. Kommersant described this as diversification under double pressure — the threat of European sanctions on processing Russian oil and political pressure from Washington — but with the caveat that most analysts do not expect a “complete halt” of Russian supplies in the medium term, since that would contradict the interests of Indian refineries and the country’s concept of strategic autonomy.

Against that backdrop, Indian officials conspicuously emphasize positive dynamics in relations with the US and try to sideline the oil topic. Foreign Minister Subrahmanyam Jaishankar, after a recent visit to Washington, said that ties between the two countries are on a “positive trajectory” and that critical minerals, high technology and defense cooperation were at the center of the agenda. As Indian and Russian media note, the State Department, after meetings with Jaishankar, did not publicly mention Russian oil imports at all, focusing its releases on “cooperation on critical supply chains and strengthening the Indo‑Pacific security architecture.” In the Indian information space this is read as an attempt by Washington not to corner Delhi publicly with an “either with us or with Moscow” ultimatum, but to move sensitive topics into closed formats.

Interestingly, some analysis of US–India now reaches Indian readers through Chinese and Russian platforms, which place emphasis precisely on the geopolitics of oil. The economic portal Mondiara, in an article titled “Energy war: how the US is pushing Russia out of the Indian oil market,” stresses that the new Washington‑Delhi deal “is another achievement by the US in displacing Russia from energy markets,” and India’s reduction in Russian oil imports is described as a direct result of the “EU ban on petroleum products from Russian crude and US pressure.” For an Indian audience, this is a double mirror: on one hand, strengthening strategic partnership with the US does promise easier access to the American market and technologies; on the other hand, Russian and Chinese commentators emphasize the risks of India becoming an instrument of others’ energy and sanctions logic.

At the local level in India cautious skepticism is already being heard. In comments to PTI reports and in expert columns cited by regional outlets, former diplomats and economists remind readers that India cannot afford “geopolitical romanticism” at the expense of cheap supplies — Russian oil, given discounts, was and remains an important factor in curbing inflation. They also recall episodes when the US in the past imposed and removed tariffs and sanctions unilaterally, casting doubt on the longevity of current concessions. In this context the oft‑quoted remark by Indian oil minister Hardeep Singh Puri is telling: “India will buy oil where it is beneficial to the Indian consumer,” which in the new circumstances sounds like a principle Delhi is not ready to abandon even while expanding its partnership with Washington.

Chinese media pieces about the same US–India deal are noticeably more structurally distrustful of Washington. In the business press, such as 证券时报网 and its republications on other platforms, the agreement is presented primarily as an event on the global energy market: sharp strengthening of Indian ETFs and the rupee after Trump’s announcement, promises of hundreds of billions of dollars in American energy purchases, and the bolstering of the US role as an energy exporter. But caveats immediately follow: several Chinese analytic centers cited by the business press doubt that the volumes claimed by the American president can be realized given the real scale of bilateral trade. This is presented as another example that Trump and his team use loud figures and “deals” more as a tool of domestic PR and a signal to markets than as a well‑calculated long‑term policy.

A harsher tone comes from official and semi‑official mouthpieces in Beijing when the subject is not India itself but the US trade line in general. In an article published by the Chinese MFA written by the Chinese ambassador to Afghanistan, addressing the introduction of an additional 10% duty on a wide range of Chinese goods under the pretext of fighting fentanyl, the American approach is directly characterized as “单边霸权” — unilateral hegemonism — contrary to the spirit of globalization. The ambassador lists the “four sins” of Washington in the tariff war: absurdly blaming China for the fentanyl crisis, abusing WTO mechanisms, using “归零” (zeroing) to artificially inflate anti‑dumping duties, and blocking the full functioning of the WTO appeals body. The text on the MFA website notes that such tools have repeatedly been found by the WTO to violate rules, yet the US continues to seek legal workarounds to “复活‘归零’做法” — revive zeroing in new formats. This language forms, for domestic and foreign audiences, an image of the US as a systemic rule‑breaker that not only “pressures” China but also redirects energy flows in its favor, as in the case of India.

The second major thread of the Chinese agenda about the US is another “technical” partial shutdown of the federal government. Chinese news agencies and opinion columns give this phenomenon their own name: “停摆政治” — the politics of shutdowns. An article from China News Service titled “不是‘停摆’就是在‘停摆’路上，美国政治运作恶性循环” (“Either already a shutdown or on the way to one: the vicious cycle of American political operations”) details recent instances of government stoppage, including the record 43‑day shutdown in autumn 2025, and stresses that the current three‑day crisis is merely another symptom. The authors, journalists Zheng Yuntian and Kong Qinglin, guide readers to the conclusion that frequent shutdowns and the threat of new ones are the result of deep political polarization, where temporary budget measures, short‑term extensions and partial closures have become the “new normal” of the congressional budget process. American democracy here appears as a system captured by partisan confrontation to such an extent that its basic function — ensuring the uninterrupted operation of the state — is regularly called into question.

Chinese TV channels, including CCTV, emphasize that this “technical shutdown” this time affected key departments such as Defense, Health, Labor, Transportation and Treasury, as well as homeland security. Reports recall images from past shutdowns: closed national parks, nonfunctioning government services, delays in benefit payments. Analytical pieces, for example in the “世界说” column on Sina News, note that even when a stoppage is short‑term, direct economic damage can be measured in billions of dollars, and citizens’ trust in the state and financial markets’ confidence in American institutions are systematically undermined. Thus, in Chinese discourse shutdowns are used not only as an example of “chaos” in Western democracy, but also as an argument that a model based on constant partisan struggle and blocking decisions is incapable of long‑term strategic planning — whether in economics, trade, or foreign policy.

Japan’s coverage of these topics is traditionally milder, but it also shows concern about the predictability of the US as the primary security ally. In major Japanese outlets such as Asahi Shimbun and Nihon Keizai Shimbun, discussion of the latest shutdown and Washington’s trade moves is woven into a broader conversation about how resilient American leadership is amid growing internal divisions. Japanese analysts point out that the Trump administration is pursuing several fronts in trade at once — from the protracted “关税战” with China to a new phase of conflict within the North American trading system, referred to in Chinese‑language materials as the “2025–2026 US‑Canada‑Mexico trade war.” Japanese commentary emphasizes that this style — reliance on broad unilateral tariffs declared under the logic of “national emergency” — makes the US a less reliable partner even for its allies, because it creates uncertainty for Japanese exporters and investors.

Some Japanese experts draw parallels between the recent US–India deal and Tokyo’s own negotiations with Washington over steel, automobiles and agricultural products. Political magazine columns suggest the theme that “Trump’s America” prefers bilateral deals where it can dictate terms rather than multilateral institutions like the WTO and the CPTPP. From Japan’s perspective, this weakens the common rules of the game in the region and intensifies competition for “special conditions” with the US, into which India is now openly entering by offering geopolitical and energy bonuses in exchange for tariff concessions. For Tokyo this is both a challenge and an incentive: Japan must strengthen its own multilateral initiatives in the Indo‑Pacific region so as not to find itself in a situation where every new administration in Washington revisits prior commitments.

A unifying motif across all three countries is less about reaction to any single US decision than the broader picture of American policy as a mix of a tough, sometimes impulsive external economic line and internal political instability. India views this through a pragmatic lens: how to extract maximum benefit from a trade deal with the US without burning bridges with Moscow and while preserving maneuvering space. China uses shutdowns, tariff wars and energy deals as proof that Washington is not only a competitor but also a source of systemic risks to the global economy and trade rules. Japan is more anxious: can such an America remain a stable anchor of security and the economy in the region, or will partners have to shoulder a greater share of responsibility for the architecture of order?

It is in this complex picture — composed of Indian worries and hopes, Chinese accusations of hegemonism, and Japanese concerns for stability — that Asia’s perception of America is being formed today: a country whose economic and military power remains large, but whose domestic and foreign policy is increasingly seen in the region as less predictable.

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The world watches Washington: how Germany, Russia and China rethink Trump’s America

Outside the United States, America is no longer discussed as an abstract “superpower” but as a source of direct shocks and opportunities. Donald Trump’s return to the White House, Washington’s turn in the Middle East, attempts to restart dialogue with Moscow and the growing technological rivalry with Beijing are shaping a new configuration that Germany, Russia and China each read in their own way. Yet through differences in tone and interest common themes emerge: distrust of American predictability, anxiety about their own security and, at the same time, an awareness that no major crisis can be resolved without the US.

The first major knot of debate and assessment is America’s strategic course under Trump. In Europe, and especially in Germany, the figure of the US president has again become a sensitive topic in the internal debate about security and sovereignty. In his recent government declaration, Chancellor Friedrich Merz directly linked the need for Europe’s “technological sovereignty” to excessive dependence on the US, admitting that the continent has relied too long on American IT platforms and digital services. At the same time Merz sharply criticized Trump for disparaging remarks about NATO’s role in Afghanistan and stressed that for Germany the transatlantic alliance remains an “existential” element of security, even if Washington is behaving increasingly capriciously. In the German mainstream this dual feeling—irritation and dependence—dominates: the US is less and less seen as a “normative beacon,” but is still regarded as an indispensable guarantor of defense.

It is telling that public perception in Europe is shifting as well. A fresh poll by the European Council on Foreign Relations shows that a significant share of citizens in leading EU countries no longer consider the US a reliable ally and expect China, not America, to be the main beneficiary of Trump’s “America First” course in a second term. The study records a paradox: the louder Washington proclaims its greatness, the more Europeans feel the strategic center of the world shifting toward Beijing and Asia, and that Europe risks marginalization unless it becomes an independent center of power. In Germany this pushes discussions about a “European pillar” within NATO and a more pragmatic, cold-eyed view of Washington.

The second major storyline—Russian-American relations—presents an even more layered picture. From the Russian perspective, the year since Trump’s return has been a time of cautious “thaw” without illusions. Moscow commentary regularly recalls last year’s meeting of the presidents in Anchorage (frequently called “the Alaska summit” in the Russian press), which political scientist Alexander Asafov describes as a turning point: personal contact between the leaders, he says, gave the sense that Washington and Moscow at least again “hear” each other, even if there has been no visible progress in air links or diplomatic presence. Analysts like Natalia Tsvetkova draw parallels with the Reykjavik summit of 1986, pointing to the potential significance of these contacts for future arms-control agreements—especially against the backdrop of the New START treaty expiring in 2026. But alongside references to Trump’s remark that “now it’s up to Zelensky,” many Russian and Western observers note another side: the risks to Ukraine, for which a US–Russia deal could translate into pressure to “agree to a settlement.”

Within the Russian political establishment there is restrained optimism, closely entwined with suspicion of the US Congress. First Deputy Chairman of the State Duma Committee on International Affairs Alexey Chepa emphasizes that the main change compared to the Biden era is simply the appearance of any working channels between the Kremlin and the White House; he says Moscow hears signals from congressmen about willingness to dialogue, while recognizing that a lack of contacts between the two largest nuclear powers would instantly strike at the global order. Senator Alexey Pushkov, by contrast, points to the 2026 midterm elections for Congress as the main risk factor: if the Democrats take the majority, he warns, they will try to “resurrect Biden’s policy” toward Russia and Ukraine, which could undermine the current cautious détente. Russian media stress that moves in the relationship are visible not in declarations of friendship but in dense, tough, but regular communication—whether negotiations on Ukraine in Saudi Arabia and Abu Dhabi, or behind‑the‑scenes contacts on strategic stability.

Public opinion in Russia reacts to changes in Washington more subtly than commonly thought. Levada Center data show that against the backdrop of the started negotiations to resolve the Ukrainian conflict and Trump’s first steps in his new term, the share of Russians who view the US “favorably” has risen to roughly a third, but a majority still regards America with distrust or outright hostility. Interestingly, the most positive attitudes toward the US are found among those under 24 and among people who get their news from YouTube channels rather than traditional TV. For the Russian audience in 2026 America is not only a geopolitical rival but an inevitable partner and, at the same time, a powerful but capricious actor that easily changes course depending on domestic struggles in Washington.

The third line, where geopolitics and emotions merge, is the growing confrontation between the US and China. Here Berlin’s, Moscow’s and Beijing’s views diverge significantly. Germany in recent debates speaks of China and the US as two poles of pressure on the European economy and technological supply chains. Former ECB head and ex‑Italian prime minister Mario Draghi warned recently that the global economic order as it once existed is “dead,” and Europe risks becoming a “deindustrialized periphery” between American and Chinese tech giants unless it develops a unified strategy and strengthens its own defense and industrial policy. This logic is not inherently anti‑American or anti‑Chinese, but underscores that Germany and the EU are trying to slip into a narrow corridor between two competing superpowers, reforming their supply chains and 5G–6G infrastructure so as not to be critically dependent on either Beijing or Silicon Valley.

Moscow, by contrast, views the escalation of Chinese‑American rivalry as an opportunity to expand its room for maneuver. Russian commentators increasingly speak of a Moscow–Beijing–Washington “triangle,” where Russia seeks to turn US pressure on China into an incentive to deepen energy, technological and financial cooperation with Beijing. At the same time the Kremlin signals readiness for targeted cooperation with the US where interests converge—from nuclear arms control to counter‑extremism agendas. Episodes like the US military deployment in the Persian Gulf amid unrest in Iran and wars in the Middle East are met in the Russian discourse with a dual reaction: on one hand Washington’s “militarization” of the region is criticized; on the other, it is acknowledged that without US involvement risks to energy supplies and Russian interests in the region only grow.

But the most complex, subtle—and perhaps key—dimension is how the Chinese themselves discuss America today. Officially, Beijing continues to repeat the mantra of “non‑interference in internal affairs” and calls for “mutual respect” with the US, especially in the context of American elections and accusations of possible foreign interference in the campaign. Chinese diplomats in public statements carefully distance themselves from any attempts to influence the vote and emphasize that US presidential elections are “an internal affair of the United States” in which Beijing has neither interest nor intent to intervene. Under this calm official layer, however, there is a lively internal debate—from expert circles to social networks.

Research by Chinese and international scholars analyzing millions of comments and short videos on Douyin and TikTok shows that online discussion of China‑US relations in China oscillates between admiration for America’s economic and technological might and resentment that Washington is perceived as the main brake on China’s rise. Topics such as sanctions against Chinese tech firms, chip export controls and pressure on Huawei and other companies trigger surges of negative emotion, whereas stories about Sino‑American scientific cooperation or students at American universities are often cast in a more positive light. An important detail: the tone of these discussions depends strongly on region and wealth level—data show that in wealthy coastal provinces attitudes toward the US are noticeably more pragmatic and less ideological than in poorer inland regions.

In academic and technological circles in China another, less visible aspect of American influence is debated—the cultural‑value one. A recent study by a group of researchers showed that even large Chinese language models “trained in China,” when tested on values and moral stances, give answers much closer to average American positions than to the aggregated positions of a Chinese sample. The authors conclude that the global dominance of English‑language data and Western texts creates a “soft” American influence even where technologies are formally Chinese. This raises worrying questions in the Chinese expert community: how to protect their own value orientations in an era when AI and internet infrastructure are still largely calibrated to American standards and content.

Against this backdrop the new round of US‑China competition in security and high technology is perceived differently in Germany, Russia and China but is united by three motives. First, it is universally acknowledged that the tech race is not just about chips but also about the norms, standards and values that will be embedded in the global digital environment. In Berlin there is talk of the risk of becoming a “digital colony” of either the US or China; in Beijing there is talk of the unacceptable dominance of American platforms and standards; in Moscow there is talk of the need to build sovereign solutions drawing on both Chinese and Western developments without becoming dependent on either side.

Second, the limits of American influence are becoming apparent. If a few years ago in Europe and East Asia the common question was “what if the US leaves?”, it is now increasingly formulated as: “what if the US stays but acts solely in its narrow interest, ignoring allies and partners?” Draghi’s words about the “death” of the old order—dependent on American security guarantees and open markets—resonate with Russian and Chinese theses about the advent of a “post‑West” era, where no state, including the US, can impose its will on others without strong resistance.

Finally, third, all three countries—Germany, Russia and China—inevitably discuss themselves in their debates about America. German anxiety about digital dependence on the US is at once an admission of domestic failures in innovation. Russian talk of Washington’s capriciousness and “American unpredictability” is both a way to justify a pivot to the East and an attempt to find space for Russia between competing hegemons. Chinese debates about the “Americanization” of AI and US interference in technology chains are part of a broader discussion about how to combine openness to the world with tight control of the domestic information space.

Seen from Washington, all these conversations may seem mere background to the big game. But it is in that background that decisions are formed: whether Germany will undertake costly strategic autonomy, how far Russia is prepared to go in alliance with China, and how Beijing will calibrate confrontation with the US so as not to undermine its own economic growth. For a reader who follows only American media, many of these nuances remain offscreen. Yet the world of 2026 revolves less around “what America thinks of others” and more around how others learn to think about America and act based on their own interests rather than on Washington’s expectations.

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The World Through Washington's Lens: How Japan, China and Brazil Debate Trump’s America

With the change of administration in Washington and Donald Trump’s second term, the United States has again become the main foreign-policy reference point and irritant at the same time. In Tokyo, Beijing and Brasília they no longer discuss an abstract “American century,” but a very concrete set of decisions: intensified tariff wars, a strict revision of alliance commitments, a new line on China and another turn toward U.S. involvement in the Middle East. Through these topics each society voices its own fears and hopes: the Japanese — the fate of the security system in East Asia; the Chinese — the structure of global economic power; the Brazilians — the balance between the U.S. and Latin America’s regional autonomy.

It is especially notable that local debates in the three countries are increasingly unlike a simple retelling of the English‑language agenda. In China the U.S. is primarily seen as a “global source of instability” in trade and technology; in Japan — an indispensable but ever less predictable security guarantor; in Brazil — an important but not the only pole in a multipolar world where Beijing is gradually catching up with Washington in influence.

One of the central storylines that unites China, Brazil and, to a lesser extent, Japan is the evolution of the U.S.–China confrontation under Trump‑2. In China this is viewed through the prism of systemic “friction” in science and technology: researchers analyze how export controls and investment screening hit cross‑border flows of knowledge and patents. In a recent academic paper on “China–U.S. science and technology frictions,” the authors, using data on invention patent applications and machine‑learning econometric methods, show that the negative effect is especially strong where the technological gap between the two countries is smallest and where the U.S. traditionally concentrates its strongest competencies.(arxiv.org)

But academic language in China quickly shifts into political rhetoric. Against the backdrop of a new package of American tariffs on Chinese goods, justified in Washington as a fight against fentanyl, Chinese officials describe the U.S. strategy as “关税战” — a “tariff war” and an example of “霸权逻辑” — hegemonial logic. In a programmatic article a Chinese diplomat accuses the U.S. of abusing the pretext of national security and using the humanitarian drug theme to mask protectionism, noting that China, conversely, was the first country to introduce comprehensive controls on fentanyl substances.(mfa.gov.cn) Through this lens American policy appears not just as a set of economic measures but as an attempt to preserve declining hegemony by restructuring global value chains.

Beijing’s expert community is also carefully reading American analytical reports on Trump’s course. Chinese media space actively retells a recent Brookings Institution report on one year of implementing the “new China strategy” in Trump’s second administration. In the Chinese reworking that text reads as an admission: Washington’s ambitions to “restore global leadership,” “reduce strategic dependence on China,” and “strengthen dominance in AI” far outpace real results; the key problem is a lack of consistency and trust in American policy even among allies.(sohu.com) For Chinese commentators this is convenient evidence for the thesis that the U.S. has lost the ability to set a stable global agenda.

In the People’s Republic this confrontation with the U.S. is increasingly linked to a broader picture of the “fragmentation of the West”: growing disagreements between Washington and Europe, the emergence of frictions over Arctic territories, critical minerals and NATO’s role. One geopolitical review emphasizes that the Trump administration is actively promoting diversification of supplies of critical minerals while simultaneously increasing pressure on China in supply chains.(qiia.org) Here the U.S. appears as a country trying to unilaterally rewrite the rules of the world economy, and China — as a forced defender of multilateralism. Interestingly, Chinese texts often add that Trump’s aggressiveness toward NATO and the European Union in a sense “eases external pressure” on the PRC, since it diverts Washington’s resources and political attention.

Against this backdrop Brazilian debate paints a very different angle on the U.S.–China rivalry. In major Brazilian media the U.S. most often appears at the intersection of two topics: the American presidential elections and Washington’s foreign economic policy, which affects global markets and thus Brazil as a commodity and agricultural exporter. Brazilian press regularly publishes polls on Trump’s ratings and his rivals, and the analysis around them rarely confines itself to the American “horse race.” For example, attention was drawn to a series of polls showing Trump ahead of Biden in voting intentions; local analysts read this as signaling not only a possible return of more protectionist and unpredictable economic policy, but also a continuation of a hard line on China, which is now Brazil’s main trading partner.(cnnbrasil.com.br)

Brazilian columnists often contrast the American approach to China — with sanctions, restrictions and rhetoric of “strategic competition” — with Brazil’s own attempt to build a “pragmatic pluralism”: deepening economic cooperation with Beijing, maintaining dialogue with Washington, and promoting integration within the Global South. Yet no one entertains illusions: any new round of U.S.–China confrontation affects commodity prices, access to foreign investment and Brazil’s ability to act independently. In that sense the U.S. in Brazilian discourse is not only a political actor but also a huge external shock for the economy.

In Brazilian academic and business circles there is a reflection on what U.S. strategies of “de‑coupling” supply chains mean for the country. Translating this into local context, they discuss whether Brazil could become one of the beneficiaries of production redistribution, or whether Trump’s policy will instead cement a peripheral status as a supplier of raw materials under the pressure of increasingly strict American trade barriers. Here China begins to be seen not only as an economic partner but as a counterbalance to American influence in the region.

If in China and Brazil the U.S.–China conflict colors nearly all conversations about the United States, the Japanese agenda is noticeably more “traditional”: security, alliances, Washington’s role in Asia and the Middle East. Foremost is how the Trump administration is restructuring the alliance architecture. Chinese researchers already describe in detail the threats of Trump leaving NATO if European allies “do not pay the bills,” and demands to raise defense spending to 5% of GDP.(rmlt.com.cn) In the Japanese context this directly translates into anxiety: if the U.S. exerts such hard pressure on Europeans, what conditions might be demanded of Tokyo under a bilateral security treaty? Japanese commentators in leading outlets note that a “NATO logic of transactionalism” could sooner or later be transferred to East Asia.

Against this background Japanese commentary on the U.S. is marked by ambivalence. On the one hand, American military presence in the region, including basing forces in Japan, is seen as an indispensable factor in deterring China and North Korea. On the other — Washington’s increasingly inconsistent line in other parts of the world, especially the Middle East, undermines confidence in the strategic predictability of the U.S. Notably, both English‑language and Japanese retellings of European assessments capture this: a Le Monde editorial notes that the U.S. again “promises to extract itself from Middle Eastern quagmires, while continuing to get stuck knee‑deep,” pointing to Trump’s contradictory line on Iran and his inability to truly reduce military involvement in the region.(lemonde.fr)

For Japanese analysts this is not just another European complaint: in Tokyo they see that the more Washington is distracted by the Middle East and European crises, the fewer resources and less attention it has for sustained containment policy in the Indo‑Pacific. A recent overview of global trends prepared by a Chinese research center states plainly: the new Davos agenda, where the U.S. tries to combine “breaking global rules” with managing AI, overlaps with disputes over Greenland, Canada’s strategic autonomy and NATO enlargement, and all this means America is objectively being spread across multiple fronts.(qiia.org) For Japanese experts this is reason to seriously discuss how much Tokyo should build up its own military and technological capacity so as not to be held hostage by shifting priorities in Washington.

It is interesting that the internal political dynamics of the U.S. are perceived differently in the three countries. In Brazil they are often reduced to the familiar scheme “Trump versus Biden” and the struggle of populism against the establishment, which easily maps onto local narratives. In China, American domestic polarization is read primarily as a sign of a structural crisis of Western democracy and a weakening of “global governability.” There they quote with interest American experts who acknowledge that sharp course changes from Obama to Trump, Trump to Biden and back to Trump make the U.S. an unreliable partner even for traditional allies, undermining trust in any long‑term commitments.(sohu.com)

The Japanese press is traditionally more restrained in judgments about American domestic politics, but even there a note of fatigue with the constant swings in the White House is heard. Expert columns draw parallels between the current wave of isolationist sentiment in the U.S. and historical periods when Washington withdrew from active participation in world affairs, which always led to a power vacuum and increased instability — especially in Europe and Asia. But unlike China, Japanese authors are much more cautious in pronouncing a “decline of America,” pointing out that no other state yet possesses comparable aggregate power and an alliance network.

In all three countries the U.S. also serves as a mirror for domestic debates. In China American technology policy is an occasion to argue for accelerated import substitution, the critical importance of basic scientific research, and the creation of an independent AI ecosystem. It is no longer only about protection from sanctions but about attempting to turn external pressure into a stimulus for a domestic science and technology leap, evident in the surge of interest in robotics, quantum technologies and semiconductors in political rhetoric.(arxiv.org)

In Brazil the American experience is simultaneously an example and a counterexample. Public intellectuals debate how permissible it is to copy elements of the American model — from judicial independence to tough law‑enforcement practices — and where that model leads to social distortions and radicalization. Debates about the role of the U.S. Supreme Court in balancing branches of power are read through Brazilian disputes over politicization of the domestic judiciary; the American discussion about migration and racial inequality helps to make sense of local conflicts over poverty, police violence and the limits of acceptable protest.

Japan, by contrast, sees the U.S. primarily as a technological and cultural benchmark. Even while criticizing Washington’s external inconsistency, Japanese columnists continue to consider how cooperation with American companies in AI, defense technologies and energy can become a pillar of Japan’s own “new capitalism” strategy and demographic transformation. At the same time the view is growing louder that the alliance with the U.S. can no longer be taken for granted: it must be constantly “reconfirmed” through increased defense spending, participation in American initiatives and willingness to share the burden of regional risks.

Across all these debates there is one common motif rarely heard inside America itself: fatigue with the constant need to “adjust to Washington.” For China this adjustment takes the form of forced economic and technological restructuring; for Brazil — flexible maneuvering between two giants; for Japan — a painful balance between dependency and autonomy in security.

And yet, despite rising criticism and growing competition, none of the three countries is writing the United States out of world history. On the contrary, China, Japan and Brazil in their disputes only confirm that the world still lives in an era when decisions in Washington trigger chain reactions on every continent. Only now those reactions are increasingly forming independent narratives rather than derivative ones filtered through American optics — and that is the main shift in international perceptions of the U.S. today.

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Between Dependence and Fatigue: Saudi Arabia, Germany and South Korea on the U.S.

When you look at the United States from Riyadh, Berlin or Seoul, different things come into focus, but the set of topics surprisingly echoes. In mid‑winter 2026 the U.S. is simultaneously perceived as an indispensable military guarantor, an irritating hegemon, an unpredictable presidential court and a country whose internal conflicts are increasingly becoming an external factor. In the Saudi, German and South Korean debates about Washington three major lines are especially noticeable right now: security and military dependence, a shift in the global balance toward Asia and China, and growing anxiety about internal instability and radicalization within the U.S. On top of that sits an acute agenda around Iran and the Middle East and an expectation about what exactly America wants from its allies — and what allies are no longer willing to accept unconditionally.

The first line is a hard‑nosed pragmatic conversation about security, where the U.S. remains the center but no longer the sole pillar. The sharpest, though ambivalent, tone comes from Saudi Arabia. There Washington is criticized, feared for its weakness, and still regarded as a key military partner. A recent leak about a closed conversation of Saudi Defense Minister Prince Khalid bin Salman in Washington showed how nervous the kingdom is about Iran: according to Axios, he warned that if President Donald Trump does not carry out his threats toward Tehran, this will “embolden the regime” and strengthen the Iranian leadership’s confidence in impunity.(axios.com) This private, much more hawkish tone contrasts with official Saudi calls for restraint in the region, echoed by Arab media wary of a direct U.S.‑Iran confrontation and strikes on oil infrastructure.(apnews.com)

At the same time the Saudi political elite publicly emphasize a “shared vision with the U.S. of a stable Middle East” — a formulation recently reiterated in a cabinet statement after Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman’s visit to the U.S. The statement stressed the strengthening of strategic partnership and coordination on regional issues.(saudigazette.com.sa) This line of official unity is reinforced by major defense contracts: the Trump administration approved potential sales to Riyadh of Patriot PAC‑3 interceptor missiles worth about $9 billion — a step that Saudi press interprets as confirmation that the U.S. remains ready to be an umbrella against Iran and the Yemeni Houthis.(wsj.com)

The German discussion about security is built on a different emotional background, but around the same axis of dependence. Influential German media in recent weeks have examined to what extent the Bundeswehr is “tied” to American technologies: F‑35 fighters with critically important software, P‑8A Poseidon anti‑submarine aircraft, Patriot interceptors, naval weapons systems, and in the future — a whole package of American long‑range capabilities, including the Dark Eagle hypersonic system, which the parties agreed to station in Germany from 2026. All this creates a situation where, without regular updates and decisions from Washington, a significant part of German defense simply will not function.(zeit.de)

Hence the nervous tone in discussions around the new American national security strategy, where Washington effectively demands that Europeans take on the “primary responsibility” for their own defense while at the same time reproaching them for democratic decline and ineffective migration policy. German Foreign Minister Johann Wadephul was forced to publicly assure that the U.S. “clearly stands behind NATO” and that the nuclear umbrella continues to “daily ensure our political capacity to act,” although some formulations of the American document are called “unacceptable” in Berlin.(zeit.de) Against that backdrop Chancellor Friedrich Merz, in a programmatic speech on foreign policy, demanded that Europe “speak the language of Machtpolitik” — politics of power — and cited the episode of Trump’s attempt to achieve de facto annexation of Greenland as a moment of Europe “gaining self‑respect,” having been able to give a firm response and repel both territorial claims and tariff threats.(welt.de)

The South Korean security debate is less loud, but the American factor there is literally existential. Changes of administrations in Washington and talk about a possible reduction of U.S. commitments in Asia have for several years fed both fear and the idea of a “sovereign pillar” in Seoul — from indigenous missile programs to periodically resurfacing discussions about the possibility of South Korean nuclear weapons. For Korean commentators episodes like the U.S.‑German conflict over Greenland or Trump’s threats to “punish” Europe with tariffs serve as a reminder: an ally that provides security today could tomorrow start bargaining on geopolitical issues in the transactional logic familiar from business.

The second cross‑cutting theme is the shift of the global center of gravity and how that changes attitudes toward the U.S. In Saudi Arabia, even before the current wave of tension with Iran, polls showed that for public opinion China had become a more desirable partner than America: a majority of respondents called good relations with Beijing “important” for the kingdom, while the U.S. lagged noticeably in priority — roughly two‑thirds agreed with the thesis that “you cannot rely on the U.S. now, and you should look more to countries like China and Russia as partners.”(washingtoninstitute.org) At the same time, official Saudi authors such as former diplomat Fahd Nazir in English‑ and Arabic‑language columns have been insistently telling Western audiences that between Saudi Arabia and the U.S. there are now not only common interests but also “shared values” — from religious tolerance to reforms in women’s rights under “Vision 2030” — and that this is what makes the bilateral alliance sustainable.(washingtoninstitute.org)

The German press, in turn, increasingly discusses how America’s role is changing on the geoeconomic field. Against the backdrop of sluggish European growth and a predicted slowdown of the U.S. economy to roughly 1.5% in 2026, some German research centers forecast that in the next year or two Germany’s growth rates could even briefly overtake the U.S. — not because of a German leap forward, but due to a general normalization after recession and a cooling of the American cycle.(handelsblatt.com) This is taken as an argument that Europe should free itself from the junior‑partner complex and build a more autonomous economic and technological position, including in relations with China. The tone of German commentary on British Prime Minister Keir Starmer’s visit to Beijing is telling: this “thaw” in Sino‑British relations is described as part of a broader trend where European capitals seek a balance between China and an increasingly confrontational Washington, aiming to reduce strategic and economic dependence on the U.S.(welt.de)

For the South Korean audience the shift of gravity is even more acute. Proximity to China and the DPRK makes any U.S.‑China escalation a concrete risk, not a theoretical dispute. On Korean foreign‑policy institute pages the U.S. is increasingly described as a force pushing the region toward a “new cold war” over technologies, semiconductors and military blocs, while a large part of business and the expert community would prefer a more flexible balance between the American market and Chinese manufacturing space. Thus a careful reader of the Korean press will find both pieces urging Washington to be tough on Pyongyang and articles warning that irresponsible escalation between the U.S. and China could hit the Korean economy harder than the American or Chinese ones.

The third line uniting the three countries is growing concern about the internal condition of America itself. Saudi press traditionally writes cautiously about U.S. domestic affairs, but in recent years it has paid more attention to issues directly related to regional and Islamic agendas: rising Islamophobia, disputes over migration policy, mass protests. Recent reports in pan‑Arab media about the case of Rene Nikki Good, a 37‑year‑old American woman who died during an ICE operation in Minnesota in January 2026, are presented as an example of how aggressive use of force by U.S. agencies can erode public trust and provoke mass protests, including clashes between federal authorities and local “sanctuary cities” refusing to cooperate with immigration agents.(aawsat.com) For many Middle Eastern commentators it is paradoxical: a country that for decades lectured the region about human rights now struggles with protests triggered by the killing of a citizen by its own security forces.

In Germany attention to American domestic politics has always been high, but now it is shaded by more anxious tones. The first and second Trump administrations are written about as factors undermining the predictability of an ally — what used to be considered a fundamental advantage of the U.S. The new U.S. national security strategy, accusing Europe of degrading democratic standards, was received in Berlin not only as an attempt at pressure but also as a symptom that the American political elite increasingly views the world through the prism of its internal culture war — exporting it to allies.(zeit.de) German commentary regularly raises the theme of rising polarization in the U.S., the risk of political violence and how reliably an American leadership so afflicted can make long‑term strategic decisions. At the same time these texts often add another note: despite all this, it is still the American nuclear shield and military bases in Europe that deter Moscow.

South Korean observers take the American internal drama less emotionally but far more instrumentally. For them the question is: how resilient is American democracy and how will that affect treaty obligations to allies? Korean analytical reviews recall episodes like the January 6 Capitol attack in 2021 or periodic stalemates over the budget and national debt not as moral lessons but as reminders that even a superpower can be paralyzed by its own internal conflicts — and then Asian allies must be prepared for times when Washington’s help or attention are unavailable.

A separate but cross‑cutting storyline remains Iran and a possible American intervention. Turkish, Russian and Arab press — cited in German surveys of the international press — have in recent days actively discussed the scenario of a U.S. military strike on Iran. Turkish Cumhuriyet outright asserts that given the current character of the Iranian regime the only real option for changing the system is external intervention, comparing it to the defeat of Nazi Germany by the USSR, the U.S. and Britain and to interventions in Bosnia and Serbia in the 1990s. Russian Nezavisimaya Gazeta, relying on leaks from closed dialogues, points out that Saudi representatives in private talks with Americans express fears that if Trump does not carry out his threats, this will only strengthen the Iranian leadership.(deutschlandfunk.de) For the Saudi audience this confirms the ambivalence: publicly the kingdom opposes escalation, but in private a tough American line on Iran is perceived as a vital insurance.

In Germany a possible U.S. operation against Iran is viewed through the lens of familiar dilemmas: on the one hand Berlin is interested in neither a nuclear Iran nor explosive regional destabilization; on the other hand the memory of the Iraq war and the Libyan campaign makes any American “regime change” deeply unpopular. German commentators this time write much more about risks to European energy security, potential increases in migration and how the U.S. at any moment could force its allies to “support an operation” by leveraging security dependence.

Finally, there is a softer but also unifying line — cultural and symbolic. German and Korean press pay noticeable attention to the upcoming 250th anniversary of U.S. independence in summer 2026 and the World Cup to be hosted by the U.S., Canada and Mexico. Interpreting American history as first an anti‑colonial and then an imperial story helps many European and Asian writers draw parallels to the present: a country that once fought a “distant monarchy” is now perceived by many allies as a distant center of power interfering in their internal affairs.(bpb.de) For parts of the Saudi and Korean audiences, especially the young, America remains above all a source of pop culture, technology and education — but even these voices increasingly combine admiration with criticism, from racial politics to attitudes toward Muslim communities.

The overall motif across all three countries is the same: the world is tired of U.S. monopoly, yet still not ready to do without American military and economic power. In Riyadh they count on American missiles and diplomatic cover while simultaneously building bridges to Beijing and Moscow and amplifying anti‑Israeli rhetoric in the media space, which complicates American projects for normalization with Israel.(wsj.com) In Berlin they argue with Washington about democracy, migration and Greenland, but continue buying American planes and missiles and increasing participation in NATO operations, including a new Arctic mission devised largely to “calm” Trump.(welt.de) In Seoul they anxiously watch both Beijing and Washington, trying not to be crushed between a “new cold war” and the unpredictability of American domestic politics.

The common shift is not that the world is turning away from the U.S., but that more capitals are thinking in terms of “multi‑vector” policies — even traditional pillars of Washington like Saudi Arabia and Germany. America remains the main player, but no longer the only arbiter. And it is precisely how the U.S. responds to these new expectations for a more equal, less hierarchical world that Riyadh, Berlin and Seoul are listening for most attentively today.

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Washington Between War and Technology: How Turkey, Ukraine and Germany Debate the U.S.

Today the discussion of the United States in Ankara, Kyiv and Berlin surprisingly converges around three themes: war and peace in Ukraine, the nature of Donald Trump’s new administration and its slogan “America First,” and Europe’s growing technological and political dependence on Washington. But in each country these motifs sound different: for Turkey the U.S. is a partner and a risky architect of a peace process; for Ukraine it is both a lifeline and a source of severe pressure; for Germany it is a necessary but increasingly problematic center of gravity from which it wants greater autonomy without breaking the alliance.

The first major motif is a U.S.-led peaceful settlement of the war in Ukraine. Turkish analysts in Russian- and Turkish-language outlets emphasize that it was the interaction between Ankara and Washington that in 2025 prevented the negotiation track from dying completely. An Anadolu Agency review says that in 2025 “thanks to initiatives by Turkey and the U.S. it was possible to prevent a complete breakdown of negotiation channels,” and that the Istanbul rounds produced concrete results on humanitarian issues such as prisoner and dead-body exchanges. The same publication stresses that the main, principled questions — territory, the status of particular zones, including around the Zaporizhzhia NPP — were deferred to 2026, and it is precisely here that the “American peace plan” becomes a subject of debate and expectation in the Turkish press. Turkish commentators see in this plan both an opportunity for Ankara to strengthen the role of “indispensable mediator” and a risk of becoming hostage to Washington’s rigid, deadline-driven style that may ignore Turkey’s long-term regional interests. Thus, in an analytical piece by the Harberg Center on the Turkey–U.S. summit it is noted that a “declarative agreement” emerged between Ankara and Washington on key formulations, but a “practical deadlock” remains over who and how will guarantee security after a possible ceasefire, as well as on U.S. policy contours in Syria and the Black Sea.

On the Ukrainian side, the center of gravity of discussions about the U.S. has shifted from the war itself to U.S. domestic politics and its direct impact on the front. Commentators openly write that 2026 will be the year when “Ukraine becomes part of the American elections.” In a column by Vadim Denysenko on Dumka.Media, the U.S. is described as a battlefield between proponents of harsh sanctions on Russia and those who want to “close the Ukrainian question by November 2026” in order to show voters a kind of “quick peace.” The author notes that Trump’s new sanctions on Russia became a “trigger” that cements the Ukrainian issue on the campaign agenda, and points out how quickly after their introduction Republican Senator Lindsey Graham met with Ukrainian Ambassador Olha Stefanishyna — a signal that Kyiv is trying to integrate itself into a new “anti-Russian legislative architecture” tied to the Republican establishment.

Other Ukrainian observers view the same processes far more darkly. In an opinion column on Focus.ua, political analyst Vladyslav Smirnov warns that 2026 “will be very difficult for Ukraine,” and the key problem is Donald Trump himself, under whose rule Ukraine has effectively ended up. Smirnov describes the style of the current White House as a “logic of pressure,” in which deadlines turn complex moral questions into “simple decisions that must be made today,” and conditional support is used as leverage. Such a portrait of American policy generates a fundamental sense of vulnerability in Kyiv: support remains vital — a recent example being the U.S. defense budget for 2026, which explicitly allocates $500 million in aid to Ukraine, as Ukrainian media reported citing Bloomberg materials — but it is increasingly perceived as an instrument of Washington’s domestic political play, not as a stable strategy.

This duality — dependence and distrust — also appears in more moderate column pieces. Political commentator Oleksandr Radchuk in Slovo i Dilo, in an article titled “After the era of ‘America First’: how Ukraine–U.S. relations will change in 2026,” links the future of bilateral relations not only to the personality of the president but to American policy’s general instinct of self-centeredness. He reminds readers that this week Washington will host the fifth “Ukraine Week,” timed to the 250th anniversary of U.S. independence, featuring the National Prayer Breakfast and an international summit on religious freedom, bringing together senior American officials and lawmakers. For Radchuk this is both a sign of the institutionalization of the Ukrainian issue in Washington and evidence that Kyiv must constantly “sustain American elites’ and society’s interest” in its agenda, otherwise priorities can quickly shift to domestic issues — protests against strict migration policy or interparty struggles.

In the second major theme — the general image of the U.S. and the new administration — the tone in the three countries diverges even more. In Ukrainian pieces Trump is almost always depicted through the lens of a values gap. Smirnov speaks of “a U.S. president unburdened by moral values and a commitment to justice” for whom “humiliating a partner” is a working tool. This is not merely criticism of a particular leader: behind it lies the fear that for Washington Ukraine is a variable to be bargained away if it helps win a domestic political contest.

In Turkey, attitudes toward Donald Trump are more pragmatic. Turkish analysts emphasize that the return to the White House of a politician Ankara has already dealt with opens a window for “reprogramming” the bilateral agenda: from an F-16 deal to a new configuration in Syria and the Black Sea. The Harberg Center piece notes that Erdoğan “has long sought” a full summit with Trump, and the first meeting since 2019 is seen as a chance to renew a personal channel of communication, which is so important for Turkish diplomacy. At the same time the author warns: rhetorical agreement — for example on the need for a “quick peace” in Ukraine — conceals deep divergences in understanding what the security architecture after such a peace should look like and how ready the U.S. is to take into account Turkey’s “red lines” on the Kurdish issue and the Syrian border. Here the American slogan “America First” is not criticized as immoral but treated as a given to be negotiated with.

In Germany the focus has shifted from the personality of the president to Europe’s structural dependence on the U.S. — above all technological and defense-related. Chancellor Friedrich Merz’s government declaration in the Bundestag, widely cited in the German press, was particularly indicative. In a Bild piece titled “Europa braucht den Schock von außen!” Merz says that Germany “has relied too long on others” for key technologies and that the government is preparing measures to reduce dependencies “into which we have entered too frivolously over recent years and decades.” The question is starkly utilitarian: what will happen if the American administration, under international pressure, decides to restrict Europe’s access to critical technologies — from cloud services to AI platforms? Merz urges using this risk as “a shock that moves Europe forward,” speaking of the need for “technological sovereignty.” At the same time he harshly criticizes President Trump for disparaging remarks about NATO’s mission in Afghanistan and stresses the irreplaceability of the transatlantic alliance for Germany’s security.

Out of these German debates grows the third major motif — the attempt to reconcile strategic autonomy with preserving a NATO-centered architecture. On one hand, Berlin is worried about Washington’s unpredictability: if the White House is ready to publicly devalue long-standing NATO missions and question the automaticity of collective defense, can the U.S. be relied upon as the guarantor of last resort? On the other hand, none of the serious players in Germany is proposing a radical break. The discussion is rather about diversifying risks: developing European defense initiatives and pursuing technological sovereignty as insurance against another “shock” from Washington.

The Turkish perspective on these German concerns is indirectly reflected in regional comments about the Turkey–U.S.–EU triangle. Several analytical reviews emphasize that Turkey’s domestic political confrontation reveals a new divergence between the U.S. and the European Union: Washington, according to a State Department representative, limits itself to calling on Ankara to “respect human rights” but fundamentally does not want to comment on the ally’s internal decisions, whereas European capitals react much more harshly to violations of democratic standards. For Turkish observers this is further confirmation of the thesis that the U.S. in the “America First” era evaluates partners through the prism of strategic usefulness — whether it is the Black Sea corridor, Ukrainian settlement, or containing Russia — while questions of democracy and human rights move to the background. The comparison with the EU plays an important role here: Ankara tries to balance between Western centers of power, using differences in their approaches.

Against this backdrop it is particularly telling how local debates overturn the familiar U.S. narrative about its global role. Where American media are inclined to see Washington as the “leader of the free world” or, conversely, simply another “great power,” Turkish, Ukrainian and German commentators much more often describe it as a player whose interests must be constantly “reprogrammed” to suit one’s needs. For Ankara this means extracting the maximum from the mediating role in Ukraine while minimizing the risks of being drawn into an anti-Russian confrontation according to NATO templates. For Kyiv it means constant work with Congress, religious and civic platforms in the U.S. to remain “part of the American conversation” and not become a bargaining chip in a deal with Moscow. For Berlin it is the painful realization that technological and military dependence on the U.S. must be reduced not out of anti-Americanism but out of elementary prudence in case another administration comes to the White House that views NATO and European partners through the logic of deals.

The same question is heard in all three countries: how durable are American commitments and how to minimize the cost to oneself if Washington decides to radically change course? The answers differ. Turkey bets on personalized relations and flexibility, Ukraine on institutionalizing support in the form of laws, budget lines and symbolic events like “Ukraine Week” in Washington, Germany on a long, complicated path to building European autonomy while preserving the alliance. But the common nerve is the same: the U.S. is no longer perceived as a fixed constant of the world system. And that is why in Ankara, Kyiv and Berlin today they read not only American laws and budgets so closely, but also internal cultural and political shifts, understanding that their own future is still largely written in Washington — but no longer in the way it used to be.

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How the World Sees America Now: security without rules, the tariff cudgel and fatigue from a...

At the beginning of 2026 the United States again finds itself at the center of global debates, but the angle has noticeably shifted. For Japanese, Turkish and Brazilian commentators Washington is no longer simply a "hegemon" or "leader of the free world" — it is above all a source of instability: from sudden military strikes and withdrawal from international agreements to trade wars and internal budget crises that threaten a government shutdown. Different countries point to different episodes, but the through-line tone is surprisingly similar: distrust of U.S. predictability and a search for ways to live in a world where American power is increasingly used unilaterally and commitments increasingly appear unreliable.

The sharpest debates revolve around three interrelated themes. The first is Washington’s return to a logic of "power politics": using military force and economic pressure instead of diplomacy, especially in relations with Iran and in the Middle East, which in Turkey is discussed as a return to the 19th century. (assam.org.tr) The second is American protectionism and the "tariff weapon," which Brazil felt as 50 percent duties imposed by President Donald Trump for practically "personal reasons." (noticias.uol.com.br) The third is a strategic "withdrawal of space" in global security: from a possible weakening of the U.S. role in NATO to a reduced military presence in Iraq, Syria and Africa, which in Turkey and Japan is read not as "pacifism" but as a risky retreat pushing toward regional arms races. (aa.com.tr)

In the Middle East, and especially in Turkey, discussion of the U.S. goes through the prism of power and law. In the analysis of the Turkish strategic community the key formula is "geri dönen güç siyaseti" — the return of "power politics." International lawyer Ali Çoşar, in his work for the ASSAM association, writes directly that in Trump’s second term Washington is effectively "pushing aside" the UN Charter principles prohibiting the use of force (Article 2(4)) and peaceful settlement of disputes, returning to a 19th‑century model where states with greater military and economic power imposed their will on weaker ones through threat or use of force. (assam.org.tr) In Turkish discourse this is not abstract moralizing: every U.S. action is assessed through its possible impact on Turkey’s security, whether it is the Iran crisis, the Syrian theater or the Kurdish issue.

It is telling how Turkish authors describe American policy in Syria. In a detailed analysis for Anadolu Ajansı American political scientist Adam McConnel — an academic living in Turkey — calls the U.S. course in Syria a "çöküş" — a collapse, arguing that Washington has "reached the end of the road" in trying to create a quasi‑state based on an armed group and will soon be forced to fully withdraw its troops. (aa.com.tr) Against the backdrop of victories by pro‑Turkish Syrian opposition forces, McConnel writes, "the days of the U.S. in Syria are numbered," and Turkey unexpectedly becomes a de facto "neighbor of Israel," which radically changes the regional configuration. Such an assessment, on the one hand, emphasizes the failure of American strategy and, on the other, legitimizes Ankara’s increased role as a military and political architect of the region.

Turkish think tanks expand this picture to the global level. In studies on strategic transformations in U.S. policy in the Middle East authors stress that for decades the U.S. "redefined" the region relying on instruments of force — from the Gulf War and the invasion of Iraq to using the "Greater Middle East" and the Arab Spring as frames for intervention. (dergipark.org.tr) But now Ankara sees an opportunity: the crisis of American hegemony is interpreted not only as a source of chaos but also as a window of opportunity for Turkish "strategic autonomy" and even claims to leadership in the Islamic world. Therefore the decline of U.S. influence is perceived ambivalently: dangerous, but also advantageous.

This duality is especially noticeable in discussions of a possible weakening of the American presence in NATO. In a column for Türkiye Araştırmaları Vakfı political scientist Enes Bayraklı asks bluntly: "ABD NATO’dan ayrılacak mı?" — "Will the U.S. leave NATO?" — after the unprecedented step by Secretary of State Marco Rubio, who did not attend the meeting of alliance foreign ministers in Brussels. (turkiyearastirmalari.org) The Turkish author describes a "cold wind" between Washington and Europe and "panic" on the continent at the prospect of being left face‑to‑face with Russia if America departs. On the one hand this pushes the EU to increase defense spending and military autonomy; on the other hand, Turkish commentary contains a hidden satisfaction: Ankara’s long calls for more equal relations and recognition of its contribution to security appear to be confirmed by American policy itself.

The Japanese conversation about America is less emotional but no less worrying. In the Japanese press American internal instability — constant threats of government shutdowns, battles in Congress over temporary budgets, "continuing resolutions" — has become a kind of indicator of an unreliable ally. A typical illustration is a corporate review that matter‑of‑factly notes: the Senate in March 2025 passed a temporary budget and "for a time" avoided a government shutdown, while stressing that the main budget for the period after September remains unresolved, so the risk of a shutdown on September 1 remains. (knak.jp) For a Japanese audience writers even explain the term "clean CR" — a "clean" continuing resolution without political conditions such as migration or defense programs — emphasizing that American budget policy has become hostage to domestic political conflicts.

Against this background Japanese economic and financial commentary reduces America to a combination of "world reserve currency + source of shocks." Thus, Asian currency market reviews periodically describe how another American shutdown prompts "caution" among investors in Asia, weakens some currencies, but at the same time strengthens the yen due to demand for a "safe haven." One such review noted that on the third day of the U.S. government closure the dollar index in Asia "froze," and the yen sharply strengthened as a避難通貨 — a defensive currency. (investing.com) In another piece, when the long shutdown finally ended, the author stated that the dollar "stabilized" while the yen hovered at levels at which Tokyo usually intervenes — presented as yet another reminder that internal American crises directly hit Japanese exchange‑rate and monetary policy. (investing.com)

From the security perspective Japanese commentators see in American behavior not only chaos but also a useful counterweight to China. When in late 2025 the U.S. Senate passed a bipartisan resolution supporting Japan amid deteriorating relations with China — condemning Beijing’s economic and military pressure, including travel restrictions and an incident in which radar was locked on a Japanese plane — Japanese media giants presented this as a signal of "steadfast support" for the alliance and approval of Tokyo’s tough stance on Taiwan. (news.tv-asahi.co.jp) But caution still shows through: despite gratitude to the Senate Japanese analysts cannot ignore the fact that American foreign policy increasingly depends on changing administrations and internal ideological wars, meaning the strategic reliability of the U.S. is a variable, not a constant.

If Japan tries to balance the benefits and risks of the U.S. alliance, Brazil in the past year has become a vivid victim of what there is already called the U.S. "tariff cudgel." On July 9, 2025 Donald Trump, in an open letter to President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, announced the imposition of 50 percent tariffs on all Brazilian goods, justifying it by "decades of unfair trade practices" and an alleged chronic U.S. deficit in trade with Brazil. (noticias.uol.com.br) Brazilian media and analysts quickly pointed out that the situation is in fact the opposite: according to Brazil’s own statistics the U.S. has had a surplus in bilateral trade for years, and in the first quarter of 2025 alone the American surplus reached hundreds of millions of dollars. (dcomercio.com.br)

What angers the Brazilian elite most is the deeply political character of these measures. In his letter Trump links the tariffs not to macroeconomics but to a "witch hunt" against Jair Bolsonaro, accused of attempting a coup, and to "hundreds of secret and unfair censorship orders" by Brazilian courts toward American social networks. (dcomercio.com.br) From Brazil’s perspective: the White House is using trade weapons to interfere in domestic judicial processes and to weaken Lula’s government, as well as to punish the country for its regulation of digital platforms. Senator Renan Calheiros at a meeting of the Senate Economic Committee called the U.S. decision "an attack on Brazilian trade, industry and agribusiness," motivated not by economics but by "electoral motives" in American politics. (www12.senado.leg.br)

Lula’s response forms a separate line of debate about the U.S. in Brazil. Almost immediately after the tariff announcement he promised to apply the "Lei de Reciprocidade Econômica" — the Economic Reciprocity Law — allowing for retaliatory measures, suspension of investment and even intellectual property agreements with countries that unilaterally harm Brazil’s competitiveness. (economia.uol.com.br) "O Brasil é um país soberano… que não aceitará ser tutelado por ninguém" — "Brazil is a sovereign country… that will not allow anyone to patronize it," Lula wrote, emphasizing that Trump’s reference to an American trade deficit is plainly "falsa informação" — false information — refuted by Washington’s own statistics. (economia.uol.com.br)

In the Chamber of Deputies the reaction was sharp and multicolored. Some opposition lawmakers blamed Lula and the Supreme Court for provoking Washington with their policies; others pointed to the role of Eduardo Bolsonaro, who actively built ties with Trumpists and, according to some deputies, may have facilitated the U.S. hard line. (camara.leg.br) In business publications leaders of the agribusiness and industrial sectors demanded from Lula a "reação firme, mas estratégica" — a firm but strategic reaction: to prevent escalation into a full trade war with the U.S., but also not to allow Brazil to become a "testbed" for American unilateral sanctions. (dcomercio.com.br)

Against this background the U.S. in the Brazilian view appears not as an abstract hegemon but as a very concrete source of economic pain: the extra duties struck exports of coffee, meat and other key goods, affecting, the government estimates, about a third of Brazil’s total export basket to the U.S. (noticias.uol.com.br) Lula’s response — a "Plano Brasil Soberano" aid package and active reorientation of exports to China, BRICS countries and European partners — is presented as a lesson: relying solely on the American market is dangerous when the White House is led by someone willing to use tariffs as a personal and ideological weapon. (elpais.com)

If Brazil’s conflict with the U.S. is sharply expressed on the trade plane, Turkey looks more broadly — at the crisis of the entire American hegemony. On the SDE analytical portal one of the key recent texts has a telling title: "ABD hegemonyasının krizi — Üç farklı bakış: Kaos mu, konsolidasyon mu, dönüşüm mü?" — "The crisis of American hegemony — three views: chaos, consolidation or transformation?" (sde.org.tr) Turkish authors model three scenarios: an uncontrolled disintegration of the old order in which the U.S. loses levers of influence and the world slides into multipolar chaos; a "constricted" hegemony in which Washington cuts excessive commitments but tries to more tightly control key regions; and finally a painful but constructive transformation into a more equal multipolarity where the U.S. is only one of several centers.

Through this lens the "winding down" of American presence in various regions is also examined. In Anadolu Ajansı analysis Bekir İlhan notes that the reduction of U.S. military and diplomatic activity in Syria, Iraq and Africa is not accidental but a continuation of a long‑term trend that began under Obama and accelerated under Trump: America has been trying to further reduce global military commitments, citing the absence of an equal rival and the growing influence of internal ideological and economic factors. (aa.com.tr) The Turkish interpretation: the U.S. is "leaving" not out of humanitarian motives but because it does not perceive existential threats; but this departure opens space for other players, and Turkey intends to be among those who occupy it.

The common denominator for Tokyo, Ankara and Brasília is that the United States increasingly appears not as a guarantor but as a variable — a risk factor that must be hedged. Japan is strengthening its own defense and discussing intervention mechanisms in case of American budget paralysis affecting military presence and the dollar’s course. Turkey speaks of "strategic exercises in autonomy" and readiness to act independently, especially in Syria and on NATO’s southern flank, understanding that the American line can shift sharply with each administration. (ekonomigazetesi.com) Brazil is building legal and economic infrastructure for retaliatory measures against U.S. protectionism while accelerating market diversification, treating the tariff conflict as a signal: one can no longer rely on Washington’s "reason" within the WTO and multilateral rules.

What in the American domestic discourse is often described as a normal reprioritization — "return to national interests," "rebalancing the burden of allies," "a tough response to unfair trade" — in the eyes of these three countries looks much less noble. In Turkish texts it is a "return to power politics" and disregard for international law. In Brazilian texts — crude interference in sovereign processes under the cover of rhetoric about free markets and free speech. In Japanese texts — a dangerous mix of financial and political populism undermining the predictability of the most important ally.

This is the main difference between the external view and the usual American optics: beyond the U.S., people increasingly discuss not only the "errors" of a particular administration but the structural unreliability of American power in a world where betting on force and unilateral steps has become normal again. And the more vigorously Washington asserts its "right" to such actions, the more intensely Tokyo, Ankara and Brasília seek ways to protect themselves from the next American decision which, as the experience of the past year shows, may be dictated not so much by calculation as by domestic political fever.

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How the “US plan for Ukraine” looks from Kyiv, Riyadh and Berlin

At the start of 2026, the image of America abroad was again tied not to Washington’s domestic politics but to its attempt to end the bloodiest war in Europe since Yugoslavia. The US peace plan for Ukraine, discussed since November 2025, bilateral security-guarantee packages and White House pressure on Kyiv have produced a wide range of reactions in Ukraine, Saudi Arabia and Germany — from cautious hope to open distrust. At the same time, Gulf countries and Europe are closely following other vectors of US policy — primarily a possible campaign against Iran and how the United States is reshaping the continent’s security architecture.

These themes form today’s international agenda about the US: what exactly Washington is offering Ukraine, how “American” the proposed peace is considered to be, how the Saudis are using American activity to strengthen their role as mediators, and why in Berlin officials talk about “bad” and “less bad” variants of the American plan.

The central node of discussions is the American peace plan and the security guarantees. Since November 2025, Ukraine, Europe and the US have been negotiating a complex 22‑point document that, in different versions, links a ceasefire to Kyiv’s relinquishing of some territories, limits on its armed forces and long-term security guarantees from Washington.(rbc.ru) At the same time, a separate US–Ukraine bilateral guarantees agreement is being drafted, under which, as Volodymyr Zelenskyy emphasized, a “basic block” of documents is already ready, while key details are intended for classified annexes and must be ratified by the US Congress so as not to repeat the fate of the Budapest Memorandum.(rbc.ru)

Around these points — territory, guarantees and pressure — three main lines of debate emerge: Ukrainian anxiety and efforts to fit the American initiative into its own “peace formula”; the Middle Eastern sense that the US is again ready to use military and economic levers of power; and the German debate over whether the American plan incentivizes “the profitability of aggression.”

For Ukrainian politicians and experts, the US remains both an indispensable ally and a source of risk. In Ukrainian media and expert circles, the Trump plan and subsequent amendments are described as a “living document” that Kyiv and Europeans are trying to edit so it does not look like capitulation while still guaranteeing real protection after the war. Ukrainian political scientist Igor Chalenko told 24 Channel that the 22‑point plan developed by the US after meetings in London could be acceptable only if approved by Ukrainian society; he cited polls showing extremely low public readiness for territorial concessions and predicted that the American document “will probably undergo changes.”(24tv.ua)

Official Kyiv is trying to speak about the Washington plan as cautiously as possible, but lines of red lines are visible through leaks. The Wall Street Journal, frequently cited in both Ukrainian and Russian media, relayed Zelenskyy’s circle’s assessment with the formula “Yes, but…”: Ukraine allows compromises on demilitarization around the Zaporizhzhia NPP and on army size, but is not ready to agree to a final renunciation of Donbas or the right to join NATO.(rbc.ru) The president later clarified that the security-guarantees document developed with the US and Europe must be ratified by Congress and that some provisions will remain classified — which, he said, will distinguish future guarantees from the failed agreements of the 1990s–2010s.(rbc.ru)

Equally important is the Ukrainian reaction to elements of pressure. As early as late 2024, Zelenskyy’s office called early publications about the “Trump plan” a “plant” and stressed that no one intended to discuss backroom deals over Kyiv’s head.(rbc.ru) But by winter 2025 the tone had changed: Axios and several European outlets reported that the US administration had effectively decided to halt large-scale financial and military assistance after the last cycle of G7 credit programs unless Kyiv showed readiness for concessions, primarily territorial. Ukrainian officials quoted by Axios and cited by RBC spoke of an attempt “to distance Zelenskyy from European leaders in order to more effectively pressure Ukraine.”(rbc.ru)

Against this background, sending a Ukrainian delegation to Jeddah and Abu Dhabi looked to Kyiv like a forced but conscious acceptance of the role of a “junior partner” in an American peace architecture. In the Jeddah joint statement, Ukraine agreed to the immediate introduction of a 30‑day ceasefire contingent on a reciprocal step by Russia, and Washington promised to resume intelligence sharing and military aid.(rbc.ru) For Ukrainian society this is presented as a tactical move for humanitarian gains — prisoner exchanges, return of deported children, demining — rather than as consent to partition. At the same time, irritation is growing in Kyiv over the US approach, which, in the words of one Ukrainian source quoted to the Western press, “looks at the war as an equation where territorial variables can be freely rearranged.”

Notably, Ukrainian leaders constantly appeal to past experience with American guarantees. Zelenskyy and his advisers have reminded Western and Ukrainian outlets that Ukraine already gave up nuclear weapons under promises from the US and Britain, and those guarantees failed. Therefore, in their view, the current package must be not just a political declaration but a legally binding mechanism with clearly stipulated US actions in case of a new attack — an interpretation echoed by the German edition of Forbes, recounting the WSJ leak that described the guarantees “by analogy with NATO’s Article 5.”(forbes.ru)

If the US is Ukraine’s key architect of a future peace, Saudi Arabia sees American activity as an opportunity to cement its role as an indispensable diplomatic hub for the region while distancing itself from Washington’s riskiest ventures. It was under Saudi patronage in Riyadh and Jeddah that meetings between US and Ukrainian delegations took place, as well as indirect consultations involving Russia on Black Sea maritime security. The Saudis deliberately cultivate the image of an “equidistant mediator” providing a venue but not dictating outcomes.(rbc.ru)

For the Saudi press and analytical circles, what matters most is not precisely how the US will divide Ukraine’s skies or the Donbas, but how these moves fit into the broader pattern of American policy in the Middle East. In Russian- and Arabic-language commentaries discussing a possible US strike on Iran, there is a sense that Washington is heading toward a new large-scale regional war. Political scientist Alexey Pilko, whose assessment has circulated through Middle Eastern channels, speaks openly of an “almost inevitable” American attack on Iran and notes that even key US partners in the region — Saudi Arabia, Turkey and Qatar — oppose such an operation.(eadaily.com)

Against this background, Saudi media view the Ukraine track and the American peace plan not only as a European story but as part of a wider US strategy to reformat security from the Black Sea to the Persian Gulf. In an Okaz piece about Washington pressuring Kyiv to accept Trump’s 28‑point plan, the US appears as an actor accustomed to using the threat of cutting off military aid and intelligence even with respect to allies. Citing American sources, the author writes that Kyiv faced “unprecedented pressure” and threats to stop weapons deliveries and intelligence sharing if Zelenskyy did not sign a framework agreement by the deadline set by Washington.(okaz.com.sa)

The tone is interesting: while criticizing US methods, the Saudi text also highlights Zelenskyy’s caution, noting he “tries not to reject the American plan and not to insult the Americans,” according to Okaz. Beneath the surface lies a familiar regional narrative: capitals in the Middle East once had to balance dependence on American military aid with disagreement over Washington-imposed solutions on Iraq, Syria or Iran.

Against this backdrop, Riyadh is conspicuously trying to show it will not automatically back another major American military campaign against Tehran. For Saudi strategists, regional stability and their own economic projects — Vision 2030 — matter; a large-scale war with Iran threatens to disrupt oil markets and the investment agenda. Thus, expert columns predict that if the US proceeds with a strike, it risks not only Iranian missile retaliation on bases but also “suffering a geopolitical defeat” in the region by losing the support of partners like Saudi Arabia.(eadaily.com)

In this picture, Saudi involvement in the Ukrainian settlement becomes a kind of trump card for Riyadh: the kingdom shows Washington, Moscow and Kyiv that it can provide neutral territory and diplomatic infrastructure, but it is not willing to be an appendage of an American strategy of containing Iran.

In Germany the discussion about the American plan and the wider US role in Europe is more complex and multi-layered: Berlin fears both an American failure and its excessive “deal-making” with the Kremlin. German officials and analysts try not to alienate Washington while also avoiding legitimizing a scheme that would reward aggression with territory.

Chancellor Friedrich Merz’s position is typical: in autumn 2025 he told Deutsche Welle he doubted the American plan would be adopted by Trump’s deadline of 27 November and proposed his own interim step to “at least get the process moving.” According to Latvia’s LSM portal, Merz believed Europe would likely succeed in removing from the “peace plan” the clause limiting the Ukrainian army, insisting that the security of Ukraine and Europe cannot be built on its unilateral disarmament.(rus.lsm.lv)

German Foreign Ministry official Johann Wadephul went further in nuance. In an interview with ZDF he called the Trump administration’s approach “unorthodox but effective,” noting that Washington has acted similarly in the Gaza sector. At the same time Wadephul stressed that the 28‑point document is not a full-fledged “peace plan” but rather a “list of topics and options for discussion,” and assured that the US “is watching very carefully to ensure Germany and Europe are included” in the process.(zdfheute.de)

The most important formula came in the minister’s interview on public German television: “We stand with Ukraine… We are Ukraine’s advocate.” Wadephul promised that Germany would do everything to ensure Kyiv entered negotiations “from the strongest possible position,” and at the same time criticized the haste proposed by Trump: “The last thing we need is bustle and haste.” Within the governing coalition and especially in the SPD, even harsher assessments have been voiced: as Die Zeit reported, the party stressed that the term “peace plan” would itself be a euphemism given the set of Russian gains in the original text.(zeit.de)

German think tanks put this criticism even more bluntly. In an analytical commentary by the German Council on Foreign Relations (DGAP) about a “misguided peace plan,” the initial 28‑point Russian‑American draft is said to have had no potential to end the war but could well have rewarded Russian aggression and laid the foundation for a “world order based on a balance of great powers” at the expense of smaller countries. The authors emphasize that thanks to resistance from some Republicans in Washington and European intervention, many of the most dangerous provisions for Ukraine and Europe were softened or removed, temporarily averting “a quasi-capitulation of Ukraine and the factual split of the West.”(dgap.org)

For Berlin the key question to the US is formulated this way: can one, in the pursuit of a quick peace, avoid undermining the principle of indivisible European security? German commentators view reports in Politico with concern that Washington considers its guarantees to Kyiv more significant than European ones, and entertains the possibility that the American package — promising analogues to Article 5 of NATO but without formal Ukrainian membership — will become the main instrument of postwar deterrence of Russia.(rbc.ru) On one hand, this reduces the risk of an American withdrawal from Europe. On the other — Europe risks becoming a “coalition of the willing,” providing a few helicopters and a company of troops while strategic decisions are made overseas.

As a result, three very different countries form surprisingly interconnected images of America. In Kyiv the US is the only country capable of providing real military and political guarantees, but also a partner willing to bargain away Ukrainian territory and army for the “deal of the century.” In Saudi discourse Washington remains the main military power, inclined to solve problems by force and pressure — from the Ukrainian battlefield to a possible campaign against Iran — but Riyadh is no longer prepared to play into these scenarios without regard for its own interests. In Berlin America is seen as a necessary guarantor of Eastern European security and at the same time an unpredictable architect of “big deals” with Moscow that could undermine the very European security architecture Germany sees as its historical mission.

These three perspectives share one thing: Ukraine, Saudi Arabia and Germany no longer view the US as a monolithic, unconditional leader of the “collective West.” On the contrary, they scrutinize nuances — who in Washington is writing the plan, which clauses are key, how durable the guarantees will be, and what will happen in five or ten years when the White House changes hands again. It is from these local calculations and fears that the complex mosaic of global perceptions of America is born — a mosaic not visible if one reads only American newspapers.

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How the World Argues About Washington: Turkey, Germany and Saudi Views

In early February 2026 the United States simultaneously found itself at the center of several dramas: a military intervention in Venezuela, an attempt to reboot a Middle East settlement through a Gaza peace plan, mounting tensions around Iran, and continued repackaging of the Syrian dossier. These storylines give Washington, in the eyes of the outside world, an almost caricatural image of a superpower that alternately claims the role of peacemaker and returns to forceful interventions. In Turkey, Germany and Saudi Arabia these events are actively discussed, but in completely different ways: through the prism of each country’s own security, historical traumas and political calculations.

One of the main topics in recent weeks has been the American intervention in Venezuela and the ousting of Nicolás Maduro. In Germany this provoked a sharp political split. German media report in detail how foreign-policy spokespeople of leading parties interpret Washington’s actions: conservatives from the CDU/CSU bloc see the “end of Maduro’s rule” as an “encouraging signal for Venezuela,” while the Social Democrats call the operation a “serious violation of international law.” The Left speaks of “state terrorism” on the part of the U.S. president, and the Greens demand that the German government explicitly classify the strike as illegal. These assessments, published, among other places, on Deutschlandfunk, reveal not only attitudes toward the United States but also an internal debate about how willing Germany is to tolerate the logic of unilateral uses of force even when a dictatorial regime in Caracas is unpopular. (en.wikipedia.org)

Interestingly, the Turkish and Saudi reactions to the Venezuelan operation are much more restrained in the public sphere. Ankara traditionally reacts sharply to Western interventions in the Muslim world, but Latin America is perceived as a distant theater. Turkish commentators, when discussing Venezuela, are more likely to use Washington as an illustration of double standards: when it comes to the Kurdish issue and northern Syria, Ankara constantly emphasizes that the West criticizes Turkish operations, yet far from Europe it readily changes regimes if it fits the agenda of fighting for democracy or resources. This line is clearly heard in Turkish political talk shows and columns, where the American intervention in Venezuela is mentioned alongside Iraq and Libya — as part of a general pattern of intervention.

In Saudi Arabia many commentators view the Venezuelan episode through the prism of energy. For Riyadh the most important consideration is the effect such moves have on global oil markets and on OPEC+’s role. However, they are not quick to publicly condemn Washington: the strategic partnership with the U.S. after the resumption of direct dialogue on Russia, Ukraine and Iran already rests on a delicate balance. On Saudi analytical platforms and in English-language commentary, writers often note that Washington still demonstrates a readiness for forcible intervention beyond its “traditional” theater, and this must be taken into account when planning one’s own foreign policy; but criticism is more muted and academic rather than a frontal political accusation.

An almost mirror-like story can be observed around the Gaza peace plan, which took the form of an agreement on a ceasefire, the exchange of hostages and the launch of a Gaza reconstruction process with active roles by the U.S., Qatar, Egypt and Turkey. The international reaction to this plan reveals a paradox: many world leaders not only welcomed the ceasefire but also began nominating U.S. President Donald Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize. Argentine President Javier Milei publicly said that Trump deserves the award, and the collective leadership of Bosnia and Herzegovina officially decided to nominate him for his “contribution to establishing a lasting peace in Gaza.” (en.wikipedia.org)

For a Middle Eastern audience, especially the Saudi one, the Gaza plan is not just a diplomatic gesture. It fits into a broader line of the new U.S. administration: an attempt to simultaneously reduce violence in the region and strengthen its position as an indispensable mediator between Israel, Arab states and uncontrolled armed groups. Saudi commentators in leading outlets emphasize that Washington has returned to the role of architect of regional deals on which maritime security, investment inflows and prospects for normalization with Israel depend. At the same time, Saudi expert discourse shows noticeable distrust: commentators recall past failed initiatives and note that every American “peace” construct has historically been accompanied by armed pressure on one side. An important detail for a Saudi audience is Turkey’s and Qatar’s participation in the negotiations: this reduces the fear of a unilateral American‑Israeli security architecture and makes the deal politically more acceptable.

In Turkey the Gaza plan was also met with cautious approval, but with a clear emphasis on Ankara’s role. The Turkish press stresses that without Turkey’s participation — Turkey having earlier led strong rhetoric against Israeli operations in Gaza and having links with both Qatari and Egyptian mediators — Washington would hardly have been able to shape the deal in its current form. Columnists oriented toward the ruling party interpret this as confirmation that the U.S. is forced to recognize Ankara as one of the key regional centers of power, not merely a “problematic NATO ally.” Opposition commentators, meanwhile, remind readers that American policy on the Palestinian track is cyclical: one administration signs agreements, the next revises or forgets them, so relying on the durability of the current peace without deep structural changes in the Israeli‑Palestinian conflict is dangerous.

The German view of the Gaza plan is far more skeptical, although at the official level Berlin welcomes the ceasefire and the release of hostages. For the German expert community the key question is institutional guarantees: how likely is a solution tied to a specific U.S. administration to become a sustainable security format? Analytical pieces in political journals and research institute sites often argue that under Trump the U.S. acts improvisationally, relying on personal deals and situational alliances, which makes any success fragile. The German public, having undergone years of debate about Europe’s dependence on the American security umbrella and the future of the transatlantic alliance, views American “peacekeeping” activity primarily through the question: can one rely on Washington strategically if its long‑term commitments depend on the outcome of the next elections.

A fresh surge of tension in U.S.–Iran relations, accompanied by threats of strikes and an increased American military presence in the region, has pushed Saudi Arabia and Turkey into an unusual joint role — parties publicly urging both Washington and Tehran to show restraint. Associated Press reporting emphasizes that Arab U.S. allies, including Saudi Arabia and Turkey, in private and public contacts warn that any escalation threatens to destabilize the entire region and bring strikes on their territory or on American facilities on their soil. (apnews.com)

For Saudi elites this is not just a security question: the experience of attacks on oil infrastructure and tankers makes a possible U.S.–Iran war a direct threat to the kingdom’s economic model. In Saudi columns and expert notes the U.S. is criticized for “playing with fire,” yet efforts are made not to undermine the image of Washington as a necessary counterweight to Iran. In public statements Saudi officials emphasize that in this conflict Riyadh is not a junior partner but an independent mediator capable of speaking with both Tehran and Washington.

The Turkish discourse on the Iranian issue is more multilayered. On one hand, Turkish authorities traditionally oppose any scenario of a major American military operation near Turkey’s borders, pointing to refugee flows and the strengthening of radical groups as happened in Iraq and Syria. On the other hand, the Iranian factor is tightly linked to the Kurdish question and the Syrian dossier. Against the backdrop of the continuing crisis in northeastern Syria, where after a shift in U.S. policy and de facto recognition of Syria as a Turkish sphere of influence Ankara gained more freedom to act against Kurdish forces, any radical weakening of Iran could redivide the map of influence. Turkish analytical texts stress that the Trump administration, on one hand, encourages protest movements in Iran and promises to intervene if repression intensifies; on the other hand, it demonstratively rolls back some previous commitments in Syria, where Ankara has been given a carte blanche to manage the Kurdish autonomy issue. The perception of the U.S. here is ambivalent: Washington is dangerous because it is unpredictable, but it can also be useful if its moves weaken Turkey’s competitors.

Germany watches the U.S.–Iran confrontation through the prism of European security and its own energy vulnerability. German analysts often express fatigue: after the Ukrainian crisis and the prolonged confrontation with Russia, the prospect of a new large conflict that would inevitably draw in NATO is seen as a catastrophic scenario. Trump‑style rhetoric toward Iran, including threats of regime change and demonstratively tough warnings, produces a déjà vu effect for German audiences reminiscent of 2003, when Berlin clashed with Washington over the Iraq invasion. But whereas then the federal government took an openly oppositional stance, today Germany is much more tied to American guarantees and cannot afford a severe rupture. Therefore criticism is more often voiced through parliamentary opposition and the expert community, while official Berlin sticks to a vague formula about the inadmissibility of escalation.

A separate but closely related storyline is the continuing reconfiguration of the Syrian question. After the Trump administration de facto recognized Syria as a Turkish sphere of influence and abandoned the previous format of support for Kurdish forces, the Turkish press has been actively discussing a “new era” in relations with the U.S. According to reviews of events in Syria, Washington not only lifted some sanctions but also signaled that it is withdrawing its troops, opening space for Ankara to operate against Syrian Kurds. (en.wikipedia.org)

In Turkey this is presented as a diplomatic victory: finally the U.S. has begun to consider Turkey’s “legitimate security interests” and stopped ignoring Ankara’s claims to control its northern border. However, Kurdish and opposition Turkish commentators view this as a cynical deal: Washington, which once relied on Kurdish forces in the fight against ISIS, now easily changes course when an agreement with Turkey and a desire to extract itself from the Syrian quagmire demand it. In the German and European discourse the Syrian redivision is discussed from another angle: as an example of the U.S. increasingly making decisions without aligning them with Europe’s interests — whether migration risks, new waves of radicalization, or the fate of allies left unsupported on the ground. For Saudi Arabia the Syrian knot with American involvement matters insofar as it affects the balance with Iran and Turkey: in Saudi analytical materials Washington appears as an architect who now listens more to Ankara than to traditional Arab partners.

Finally, U.S. relations with Germany and Saudi Arabia today are greatly affected by Washington’s attempt to restart dialogue with Russia through venues like the Riyadh meeting in February 2025. Then U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio and Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov, with Saudi mediation, discussed ways to end the war in Ukraine, while in Paris European leaders had expressed concern that the American line was shifting too quickly. (en.wikipedia.org)

For Saudi commentators that meeting confirmed the kingdom’s new status: Riyadh is perceived as a venue where issues between the U.S. and Russia are decided, and thus where the fate of European security is also determined. In the Saudi press this was interpreted as a step toward multipolarity, where the U.S. is an important but not the sole center of power. In Germany the same series of events provoked alarm: Washington, ready to hold bilateral talks with Moscow in a format that leaves Europeans the role of extras, reminds German analysts of historical Yalta‑type scenarios and more recent examples of “deals over the heads of allies.” Therefore any American statement about a quick peace in Ukraine and large geopolitical bargains raises in Berlin not so much hope as questions about the price of these compromises for the European security architecture.

The result is a complex mosaic in which the U.S. is simultaneously criticized, feared, used and suspected. For Turkey Washington is a source of risk and opportunity: American policy in Syria, toward Iran and on the Kurdish issue can either cement Turkish influence or blow up the region on Turkey’s doorstep. Germany sees the U.S. as a key security guarantor but increasingly doubts the predictability of that guarantor, especially when forceful operations — like the intervention in Venezuela — are carried out outside the norms that underpin German political consensus. Saudi Arabia assesses Washington pragmatically: as an indispensable partner for security and energy, but also as a player whose propensity for escalation with Iran and unilateral interventions can jeopardize the very model of Saudi stability.

What remains largely invisible inside the American media sphere is the sense in the outside world that the U.S. increasingly acts according to a logic of “deals of the moment”: today a peacemaker in Gaza, tomorrow an initiator of regime change in distant Venezuela, the day after a participant in a risky bargaining with Iran. Turkish, German and Saudi voices together paint the picture of a state that still possesses immense influence but is increasingly seen not as a pillar of predictable order, but as the main factor of global uncertainty to which each must adapt at their own peril.

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How the World Sees Trump’s America: South Africa, Israel and Saudi Arabia

The American agenda has once again become the axis around which regional debates in very different parts of the world revolve. In the second half of January 2026, commentary on the United States in South Africa, Israel and Saudi Arabia converges on one point: the world is dealing with the United States under Donald Trump that is simultaneously displaying sharp coercion, economic nationalism and a willingness to redraw old rules. But in each country this new “American moment” is seen through its own mix of fears, hopes and reckonings with Washington.

One of the main sources of discussion has been the escalation along the Washington–Tehran line. In Israel political commentators describe the night when the Trump administration unexpectedly urged all US citizens to leave Iran immediately and then announced a 25 percent tariff on any countries that continue to do business with it. In an editorial for the Israeli outlet Zman Israel this was called a move that sharply raises the stakes on multiple fronts at once: against Iran, but also against China, whose economy is tightly linked to Iranian oil and infrastructure, and the Chinese embassy in Washington has already warned that Beijing “will take all necessary measures to protect its interests.” In Iran, Israeli writers emphasize, officials are convinced that the US and Israel “are hammering and pushing protests,” trying to effect regime change not by direct military force but by a combination of economic strangulation and street pressure, as described in a daily analytical letter from Zman Israel on January 13, 2026, where attention is focused on the threat of a military operation and on the notion that the question is no longer “whether” it will happen but “when and at what scale.” As the author notes, the escalation toward Iran in Israeli discourse is perceived, on one hand, as the fulfillment of long-standing demands to “finally break” the Iranian regime, and on the other—as a source of enormous risk: if Washington acts impulsively, Israel will almost inevitably be on the front line of a retaliatory strike.

The Saudi discussion of the same American pressure on Iran is much more cautious and pragmatic. Saudi outlets, especially those close to the official line, try to fit the US’s tough policy into the logic of a “shared Gulf security architecture.” In pieces about the strategic partnership between Riyadh and Washington, such as an article in Al-Madina about a prospective “six-hundred-billion” bilateral deal agenda, it is emphasized that the US–Saudi tandem remains a “pillar of regional stability” in Syria and on the Iranian front, and that Trump’s May 2025 visit to the kingdom and the signing of a strategic economic partnership declaration laid the groundwork for a new stage of coordinated pressure on the region’s “destabilizing forces.” The author of that article recalls that the future of Syria and “creating conditions for reconstruction” were discussed in a three-way (in practice four-way) format involving Trump, the Saudi crown prince, the president of Turkey and the new Syrian president, and leads the reader to the idea that Washington, however sharp its style, remains a key architect of the Middle East’s future rather than merely an external aggressor. This rhetoric noticeably differs from the Israeli one, which is far more nervous: Saudi commentators express less fear of American adventurism and place greater emphasis on the benefits of Trump’s toughness—provided it is integrated into a design agreed with the kingdom.

Particularly interesting is the perspective offered by a survey of Middle Eastern experts published by the Arabic service of Al-Hurra under the headline “What Worries the Middle East on the Eve of 2026?”. There, former head of Israeli military intelligence Amos Yadlin describes the region as being “at a crossroads between multi-dimensional escalation and regional diplomacy of deals led by a dominant US,” while former US ambassador Ryan Crocker answers the question about the main threat even more plainly: “The United States. What we do or do not do will have dramatic effects on the region, and it is hard to predict our actions,” as phrased in Al-Hurra’s compilation of expert opinions. This view reflects a paradoxical sense of double dependence: countries in the region simultaneously fear and need American leadership, and this is a throughline in both Israeli and Saudi texts.

The second major topic stirring regional elites is what might be called the “excessive use of American power” on a global scale. One recent Israeli review of the US political situation, also in Zman Israel, is built around the image of an “American pressure cooker”: the author notes that Trump’s long, confused speeches give the impression of an uncomprehending, chaotic leader, yet the actual steps of the White House show the opposite—the United States “is flexing all its muscles—military, diplomatic and economic—to compel the world to follow its demands.” The piece worries not only about the Iran front but also about Trump’s ultimatums to Europe on NATO and his odd fixation on Greenland—taken together seen as signs of a US using its still-extant superiority to “rewrite the rules” one last time in its favor. The Israeli press, accustomed to viewing the US as a predictable ally, for the first time in a long while so consistently talks about Washington as a player that can change the game at any moment, including for its allies.

Interestingly, this theme sounds similarly even in Europe, and through that it indirectly filters into Middle Eastern discussion. In a recent interview published across German outlets of Deutschland, German defense minister Boris Pistorius urges Europeans “not to look at the White House the way a rabbit looks at a snake,” adding that otherwise Europe will lose focus on what it must do itself—to become more sovereign and independent in security matters. Saudi analysts tracking European moods see this as a sign that even traditional US partners can no longer treat Washington as a stable anchor. For the kingdom, which is crafting a multi-layered policy between the US, China and Russia, this is an argument for accelerating its own “strategic autonomy,” a theme written about in several economic and geopolitical reviews in the Saudi press: the less predictable Washington is, the more important it is for Riyadh that the partnership with the US be just one pillar rather than the sole support.

A particularly distinct angle on America has emerged in South Africa, where the debate about the US is now connected primarily to the so-called “Mission South Africa”—a program launched by the Trump administration in 2025 to provide refuge to white South Africans and other minorities under the pretext of a “genocide of farmers” and alleged state discrimination in the context of land reform. The South African government led by Cyril Ramaphosa sharply rejected the entire narrative underpinning this program, pointing out that the white minority is not subject to persecution meeting refugee-status criteria. The term “genocide of whites,” sometimes used by the American right-wing rhetoric, has been completely discredited by experts and human-rights defenders, which is analyzed in detail in English and Afrikaans sources devoted to “Mission South Africa.” For South African commentators this is not only an example of how the US interferes in their domestic discourse about land and race, but also a symbol of how Washington, following its internal political logic, is ready to use the fate of another country as material for its cultural wars.

South Africa’s reaction to this program is twofold. On the one hand, the official line of the ANC and the government emphasizes that such initiatives from Washington feed extreme-right narratives about a “persecuted white minority” and undermine the national dialogue on justice and restitution, which is already difficult. On the other hand, among Afrikaners and some opposition commentators there is a sense that, dangerous as the American political spin may be, it at least recognizes real problems with rural violence and discriminatory distortions in reforms. This creates yet another line of division within the country, where the US plays not just an external superpower but an “arbiter” that each camp tries to pull to its side—often without considering how deeply this draws South Africa into an American cultural-political conflict.

In Saudi Arabia, American policy is increasingly described through the prism of US domestic crises and their influence on America’s image as a partner. Columnists contributing to pan-Arab and Saudi outlets like Ash-Sharq Al-Awsat pay attention not only to Trump’s foreign policy moves but also to how American internal conflicts over migration, racial justice and federalism reflect on the image of the US. In one recent analytical piece about America in 2026, the case of the death of US citizen Rene Nicole Good in Minnesota during an ICE operation is examined in detail—followed by mass protests, the blocking of religious services and intervention by a federal court that restricted the actions of immigration agents, which in turn drew administration protests. The author questions the limits of federal power and notes that the dispute between “sanctuary” cities and the central government again exposes the depth of American institutional contradictions and polarization. For a Saudi audience this is not just a story about migrants’ rights; it is a reminder that a country that traditionally lectures others about the rule of law is itself experiencing a severe crisis of confidence in its institutions, and that any “values agenda” with which Washington comes to the region will now inevitably be perceived through the lens of this duality.

Those same Arab commentaries increasingly stress another line: domestic American politics are increasingly coloring foreign policy. An overview on the Al-Ain portal about the US in 2026, analyzing high GDP growth in Q3 2025 and simultaneously an unprecedentedly long federal government “shutdown,” concludes that Trump’s economic narrative—combining protectionism, dismantling globalization and sharp measures like a trade war with Iran—will be the key tool of Republican candidates and will shape Washington’s foreign line. The piece also emphasizes that Trump’s initiative to harden policy toward the Muslim Brotherhood—from an executive order demanding a report on the movement’s threat to decisions by individual states and a bill in the House of Representatives mandating that the organization be designated as terrorist—will have serious consequences for several Arab countries where the movement is integrated into political life. For Saudi analysts this looks like a chance to cement their long-held position viewing the Brotherhood as a threat to regime stability through an American “terror” stamp, but also a risk that Washington will apply the label selectively according to current tactical interests.

Finally, a significant strand of commentary in the region concerns Trump’s attempt to reconfigure relations with Russia and the role of the US in European security. In Israel widely cited is the report about an invitation to Vladimir Putin to a new “Council of Peace”—a body Washington positions as a platform for settling conflicts worldwide. One Israeli commentator acidly remarks that we live in an “Orwellian world where war is peace and falsehood is truth,” pointing to the paradox: the Russian leader is subject to an International Criminal Court arrest warrant for the war in Ukraine, yet Trump is offering him the status of peacemaker and partner in global security architecture. The Israeli audience, used to seeing the US as a guarantor of the “Western front” against authoritarian states, sees this invitation as an alarming sign—a clear move away from the classic division between “democracies” and “autocracies” toward a transactional, deal-driven approach in which Washington can at any moment turn yesterday’s outcast into tomorrow’s co-author of “peace.”

In Saudi Arabia the possible US–Russian “redesign” of the world order is viewed more pragmatically, through the lens of how it might unlock or, conversely, freeze regional conflicts. Saudi analysts recall that it was through engagement with Moscow, Ankara and Washington that Riyadh sought changes in the Syrian dossier, and if Trump indeed creates a structure in which Russia is a legitimate and permanent partner, this could give Saudi Arabia additional room to maneuver. At the same time, commentary carries a cautious warning: every new American construct—be it the “Council of Peace” or a new NATO configuration—lives only as long as the political cycle in Washington, and building a long-term strategy based entirely on such initiatives is risky.

If one tries to connect all these threads—the Iran escalation, “hypertrophied use of force,” the South African case with white refugees, American culture wars exported to the Arab world, and maneuvers around Russia—the common motif that emerges is this: many countries still perceive the US as the central node of world politics, but almost no one any longer sees America as a truly predictable, structuring power. Israeli writers speak of a “pressure cooker” where internal and external pressure rises simultaneously; Saudis of a partner with whom they must strike deals while simultaneously building alternative supports; South Africans of a superpower ready, for the sake of its internal struggles, to interfere in their painful historical conversation about race and land. Perhaps the most accurate formula was voiced in the aforementioned Al-Hurra survey, where one expert named one word as the main factor in the Middle East’s future: “The United States. What we do or do not do will have dramatic effects on the region, and it is hard to predict.” This phrase, though spoken by an American diplomat, surprisingly well captures the current mood in Jerusalem, Riyadh and Pretoria: America remains the main player, but no longer someone to rely on unconditionally—only someone to whom one must constantly adapt.

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How the US Is Viewed Today from Seoul, Tokyo and Kyiv

At the end of January 2026, the United States once again became the focus of the global press, but the way it is written about in Seoul, Tokyo and Kyiv differs noticeably from the picture seen by the American reader. Against the backdrop of the killing of medic Alex Pretty by federal agents in Minneapolis, the mass "Free America Walkout" demonstrations and the escalation of immigration raids, domestic American turbulence has become a key topic for some South Korean and Japanese commentators. At the same time, a new wave of tariffs and a reframing of US strategy in the Indo‑Pacific are redefining the conversation in Asia about Washington as an ally and economic partner. For Ukraine, the US remains above all the main — but increasingly unpredictable — sponsor of the war against Russia, and every White House decision there is evaluated through the prism of state survival.

At the intersection of these threads arises a common question: how reliable is Washington — as a democracy, as a military guarantor and as an economic anchor? And although each country looks at the US through its own lens, the same word increasingly appears in South Korean, Japanese and Ukrainian discussions — "unpredictability."

The first major block of discussion is connected to the internal crisis of American democracy and the rise of police and immigration violence. In South Korea, a column by former Progressive (formerly Justice Party) lawmaker Ким Чон Дэ in Hankyoreh drew resonance; it was published under the striking headline "American democracy is dying, and it is being killed by people in masks." The author, known in Seoul as one of the harshest critics of the expansion of security forces' powers after South Korea’s 2024 "military coup" case, draws a direct parallel between the "anonymized" units deployed on the streets of Seoul and the federal ICE and border agents in Minneapolis who shot Alex Pretty during a raid on January 24, 2026. In his view, "anonymity is a tool for evading accountability to society," and the US, long seen as a model rule-of-law state, is now demonstrating to the world an "export of the model of uncontrolled force" — a conclusion that sounds especially alarming to a Korean reader against the backdrop of their own battles with the legacy of military regimes. Ким Чон Дэ’s column in Hankyoreh directly links the current protests against immigration raids and the "Free America Walkout" to the degradation of American institutional control, asking: can a country that cannot rein in its own security forces still claim the role of arbiter of democracy in the world?

In Japan, the topic of Pretty’s killing and the subsequent protests is covered more soberly, but leading liberal outlets such as Asahi Shimbun and Mainichi show a line in which the US serves as an example of how "order for the sake of security" gradually erodes civil liberties. On the analytical portal Nippon.com, although the primary attention is on US foreign policy, authors increasingly mention American domestic conflicts as a factor weakening Washington’s moral leadership. One review emphasizes that the mass "Free America Walkout" actions held on January 20 across the US and in several European countries are perceived in Japan as "a new stage of a protracted crisis of trust" between society and institutions in the US, a crisis that began with the protests of 2020. At the same time, Japanese writers avoid accusatory rhetoric: for them, American democratic instability is not a reason for schadenfreude but a reminder of their own vulnerability to rising right‑wing populism and to increased police powers domestically.

The Ukrainian discussion of the US internal crisis is almost entirely subordinated to the question: how will all this affect American aid to Kyiv. Ukrainian commentators actively cite American polls showing a decline in the share of US citizens who are "extremely or very concerned" about a possible Ukrainian defeat, and a rise in the number of Republicans who consider support for Kyiv excessive. In Ukrainian media this is linked to general political polarization and American fatigue with foreign wars — a trend in which episodes such as Pretty’s killing and the subsequent clashes around the Metro Surge operation become symbols of "America turning inward." Ukrainian analysts warn that if the internal crisis of democracy in the US continues, it will not only reduce support for Ukraine but also undermine the very idea of a "democratic world" upon which Kyiv’s diplomacy relies.

The second important motif is economic nationalism and a new wave of trade conflicts, especially acutely felt in South Korea. Donald Trump’s January 27 announcement of plans to raise tariffs on a broad range of South Korean goods — from cars to pharmaceuticals — from 15 to 25 percent came as a shock to the market and to the political class in Seoul. As The Guardian noted, the president’s claim that "the Korean parliament is not fulfilling its part of the historic 2025 deal" immediately sent shares of leading automakers tumbling and forced the government to convene emergency meetings and prepare a delegation to Washington. For South Korean observers this is not just another episode of "Trump’s trade wars," but a symptom of a deeper problem: the US is behaving less and less like a predictable economic partner even toward key allies.

In South Korean business and general political publications the reaction was split. Conservative media emphasize that Seoul itself erred by treating the 2025 agreement as a "memorandum of understanding" that did not require immediate ratification. In this key, the US appears as a tough but rational partner using its economic weight to exert pressure — an approach allies "should have gotten used to" after the first trade clashes of the Trump‑1 era. Left‑liberal outlets, however, see in the developments confirmation of the thesis that Washington increasingly thinks of alliance relations transactionally: security in exchange for economic concessions, large investment packages in exchange for tariff loopholes. For them the tariff hikes are a continuation of a logic in which the US demands not only higher defense budgets from allies but also a redistribution of trade advantages in favor of American producers.

In Japan, similar concerns are voiced more mutedly, but Nippon.com’s analysis and other platforms in Russian and Japanese clearly note the trend: Washington, focused on confronting China and the Taiwan issue, increasingly treats the economy as a tool of geopolitics. One Nippon.com piece stresses that the new Trump administration, even while avoiding references to a Camp David summit, seeks to maintain a multilayered architecture of cooperation — from the "Quad" format (US, Japan, Australia, India) to trilateral combinations like US–Japan–South Korea and others. However, Japanese writers note that US trade and industrial policy is becoming more "America‑first," and the risk that Japanese industries could be targeted is considered quite real. Against this backdrop the Japanese debate revolves around how Tokyo can simultaneously preserve a close alliance with the US and not become hostage to its domestic political and economic cycles.

For Ukraine, US economic nationalism primarily means volatility in budgetary aid and arms deliveries. Kyiv reacts painfully to any rhetoric in Washington about "cutting unnecessary overseas spending" and "focusing on domestic problems," viewing it as a direct threat to Ukraine’s military capabilities. Ukrainian analysts stress that for the White House the wars with Russia and US economic interests increasingly boil down to the question: what benefits the voter in Ohio and Pennsylvania. In this context trade conflicts with allies and Trump’s willingness to escalate with Seoul and Tokyo are seen as part of a broader picture in which Washington will not hesitate to sacrifice partners’ interests for domestic political agendas.

The third major storyline is the transformation of security in the Indo‑Pacific and the role of the US as a strategic umbrella. Nippon.com, in an article on "the security of Japan, the US and South Korea after Yoon Suk‑yeol," examines in detail what the Trump administration’s "shift of focus" to confrontation with China and Taiwan means for trilateral cooperation. The author recalls that Trump‑2’s arrival in January 2025 caused concerns in Tokyo and Seoul about the continuation of the trilateral format, but subsequent steps showed that Washington, even without pompous references to Camp David, intends to develop coordination in at least four configurations: US–Japan–Australia–India, US–Japan–South Korea, US–Japan–Australia and US–Japan–Philippines. Japanese experts note that for Tokyo and Seoul the key question is not so much whether the formal alliance with the US will remain, but whether Washington will truly be willing to take risks for them in the event of a crisis around Taiwan or a sharp escalation with North Korea. And here attention to US internal instability (from protests to legal proceedings) directly affects assessments of the reliability of American guarantees.

The South Korean debate about the American security umbrella became even sharper after the impeachment of Yoon Suk‑yeol and the subsequent reorientation of foreign policy. Korean and Japanese analysis increasingly warns: if American political presence on the peninsula sharply declines, "the foundations of South Korean security will be seriously undermined." Nippon.com authors, in a piece on the future of Japan–Korea relations without US mediation, emphasize that the "departure" of America has already led to a loss of a common security policy direction that was previously set by Washington’s strategy. For Tokyo this means the need to itself strike a balance between cooperation with Seoul and containing China without relying fully on American arbitration. For Seoul — the danger of finding itself alone not only with North Korea but also with growing Chinese influence if Washington shifts attention to other regions or becomes mired in domestic crises.

Against this backdrop Japanese and Korean writers pay particular attention to the figures of specific American politicians, from Secretary of State Marco Rubio to local military commanders, analyzing how their rhetoric and personnel policies signal long‑term US engagement in the region. Photographs of meetings of the foreign ministers of Japan, the US and South Korea on the sidelines of the NATO summit — a frame showing Japanese FM Iwai Takeshi, US Secretary of State Rubio and South Korean minister Cho Tae‑yul — are accompanied in the local press by the question: is this confirmation of strategic cohesion or a ritual behind which an increasingly transactional logic hides?

For Ukraine, the question of American military reliability takes on a very concrete form. The meeting between Volodymyr Zelensky and Donald Trump at the White House on February 28, 2025 — which ended in a public spat and the early departure of the Ukrainian president — remains to this day a starting point for assessments of Washington’s "new realism." Ukrainian writers actively discuss the controversial "minerals deal" around which negotiations were built, viewing it as an example of how American aid is increasingly accompanied by demands for material collateral and long‑term economic concessions. For Kyiv this painfully resonates with Asian narratives: Seoul, Tokyo and Ukraine all increasingly understand that this is no longer about unconditional guarantees but about bargaining in which the US plays the role of the "senior partner" dictating the rules of the game.

Finally, it is important to note another, less visible but telling layer — the participation of South Korea, Japan and Ukraine in global campaigns in which the US appears no longer as an actor but as a stage or symbol. An example is the actions of the Iranian diaspora, which since January 2026 have taken place in more than thirty countries, including Ukraine, South Korea and Japan. Here the US appears ambivalently: on the one hand, as one of the key external opponents of the Iranian regime and a potential defender of human rights; on the other — as a country where its own protests against the brutality of security forces and immigration restrictions make Asian and Ukrainian commentators speak of double standards. For Japanese and Korean authors the parallel between the dispersal of demonstrations in Iran and the actions of American security forces is not symmetrical — the US is still seen as a democracy with independent courts and media. But the mere possibility of such a parallel already changes the tone of the conversation: America ceases to be an unquestioned moral apex, becoming one of many countries struggling with their own "masked men with weapons."

The common denominator of all these disparate threads is a gradual departure from the previous model of perceiving the US as a stable, predictable and morally unassailable center of the liberal world. In Seoul and Tokyo Washington remains an indispensable security partner, but it is increasingly less often treated as the "adult in the room" who will always step in between conflicting allies and take responsibility for the common course. In Kyiv the US continues to be the main donor and arms supplier, but every new turn in America’s domestic crises heightens anxiety: might there come a moment when America finally "turns inward" and leaves its allies alone with their wars. Against this backdrop South Korean, Japanese and Ukrainian voices do not sound anti‑American but increasingly sober: they recognize the indispensable role of the US while speaking louder about the need for their own strategic calculations, in which Washington is an important but no longer the only and not always reliable pillar. It is precisely this new, more complex and less idealized optic that today shapes the image of America in Seoul, Tokyo and Kyiv — and it differs noticeably from the image the US has long sought to project about itself.

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The World Watches Washington: How Russia, China and India Discuss the New US Policy

A dense informational cloud is gathering again around the United States: a shift and radicalization of the Donald Trump administration’s course, an updated US National Security Strategy, an attempt to redraw the alliance system and pressure along trade and technology lines — all this is provoking a chain reaction of commentary in Moscow, Beijing and New Delhi. Viewed solely from Washington, it might seem that the world is either obediently adapting or silently irritated. Local discussions within Russia, China and India paint a much more complex picture: from anxious analysis of military scenarios to pragmatic bargaining with Washington and attempts to use the American course as an argument in their own geopolitical games.

On the surface it seems that the focus everywhere is the same: “Trumpism” as the style and substance of foreign policy, the new national security document, American pressure on rivals and partners, and the role of the US in the Ukrainian conflict and the global economy. But if one delves into national media and expert debates, it becomes clear: Russia sees the American strategy as an attempt to shift the burden of containment onto allies and to prepare for a long confrontation; China — as an acceleration of technological and military pressure from Washington and a need for internal mobilization; and India — simultaneously as a threat of US protectionism and an opportunity to maneuver between Washington, Moscow and Brussels.

One of the key nerves of the current discussion is the new US National Security Strategy and the broader “transition” in Washington’s foreign policy. In Moscow it is dissected literally paragraph by paragraph. Foreign Ministry spokeswoman Maria Zakharova noted back in December that the document shows a “serious rethinking of US foreign policy,” but this rethinking, in the Russian view, is not toward de‑escalation but toward a tougher ideological and forceful confrontation with the “main adversaries” — Russia and China. Russian outlets emphasize that in the new American strategy Russia and China are recorded as key challenges, and the whole architecture of alliances and sanction pressure is built around this. The harshest formulations come from experts close to the security circles: in a programmatic article for EADaily, analysts describe Washington’s course as an attempt to “shift responsibility for confronting Russia onto NATO allies so that it can focus on the main adversary — the PRC,” as well as an effort to rapidly expand the US military‑industrial base and create new elements of missile defense, including the “Golden Dome” project in conjunction with strengthened control over Greenland. The same publication stresses that Washington is simultaneously increasing pressure on Canada, forcing it to limit ties with China, and uses provocative statements — from Trump’s joking hints about a possible “annexation of Canada by the US” to stoking separatism in oil‑rich Alberta — as instruments of psychological pressure and bargaining. This image of Washington — as a power combining ideology, military might and cynical exploitation of partners’ weaknesses — fits well with the Russian elite’s conception of US‑led “managed chaos” and reinforces the argument for the need for prolonged strategic endurance and nuclear deterrence.

At the same time, Russian expert institutions are conducting a cooler, academic analysis of “Trumpism” as a style. In the annual forecast “Russia and the World: 2026,” the Institute of World Economy and International Relations of the Russian Academy of Sciences describes the Trump administration’s foreign policy as a combination of “economic pragmatism” and a priority on national security, where “ultimatums and threats” remain the main tactical instrument. Researchers emphasize that this is not simply the emotional style of a president but a deliberate choice: to demonstrate toughness abroad in order to convert it into “foreign policy victories” for the domestic audience. In the Russian discourse this is perceived ambivalently: on the one hand, as a risk of escalation and unpredictability, and on the other — as a factor that can be used, understanding that Trump seeks symbolic successes above all and may pursue flexible deals if they allow him to claim victory. At the same time, these same analysts warn against overestimating the “decline” of American power: the trend of weakening US hegemony, in their view, is real, but Trump’s attempts to “stop this process” could produce the opposite result — strengthening resistance both within the US and among its allies, which is already manifesting in growing European nervousness.

Against this backdrop another major storyline is discussed — how Washington is restructuring military and political priorities, betting on China as the “primary adversary,” and what that means for Russia and India. Russian analysts note that by relegating Europe to a second echelon and pushing Europeans to independently raise their military budgets, the US is not reducing but merely reconfiguring its presence: Europe, in the words of one Russian author, is “more hostile to Russia than ever,” and therefore even a partial “US retreat to a secondary line” does not remove the threat of NATO–Russia confrontation. IMEMO’s forecast on Ukrainian conflict scenarios for 2026 emphasizes that Washington remains the key coordinator of the West’s politico‑military efforts, even if some tactical decisions are transferred to European capitals: in Russia this is perceived as a continuation of the American policy of “fighting to the last ally.”

In India the same processes are discussed in different terms, but they essentially describe the same restructuring of the global architecture around the American focus on China. Indian media actively debate both the new US strategy and Washington’s trade‑economic line, primarily through the prism of a future bilateral free trade agreement and a broader reformatting of globalization. India’s 2025–26 economic review, widely cited in Indian business press, directly states that New Delhi expects to finalize trade agreement negotiations with the US during this year; this is presented as a way to “reduce external uncertainty” and strengthen economic ties. At the same time analysts emphasize that Washington under Trump remains a stern protectionist, not hesitating to use tariffs even against close partners. Against this background the Indian elite is increasingly seeking alternative supports: as noted by a political commentator in Le Monde in an article about EU‑India rapprochement, for New Delhi signing major agreements with Europe is not only access to markets and armaments, but a signal to the world of the existence of an “alternative to American dominance” and that India can act as an autonomous pole. Notably, in this logic Europeans and Indians themselves use the US as a negative or at least contrasting example: Trump with his tariffs and threats allows Delhi and Brussels to justify the need for “diversification” of partners, even without directly breaking with Washington.

The Indian debate about the US in recent weeks is built on a dual sentiment: on one hand, the American congratulation on the 77th Republic Day of India and the traditional formulas about the “historic link between the oldest and the largest democracies” emphasize that official Washington does not want to destroy the image of a strategic partnership; on the other — the Indian press constantly reminds that behind the ceremonial gestures lie protracted frictions over visas, steel tariffs, access to IT service markets and pressure in the area of defense procurement. Analytical columns often carry the theme that Trump and his circle see India primarily as a tool to contain China and a lucrative market, not as a full partner, so New Delhi should use the window of opportunity pragmatically rather than rely on “romantic” notions of a democratic alliance. Here the Indian view unexpectedly converges with the Russian and even partially with the Chinese: in all three cases the US is described as a power acting from strictly self‑interests, ready at any moment to adjust course if domestic political calculations demand it.

The Chinese conversation about the US in recent days is less emotional and much more technocratic, but its nerve is different — it is a technological and financial war. In morning financial digests of major portals like Sina, the American factor appears indirectly: through discussion of sharp swings in the crypto market, re‑evaluation of dollar liquidity risks, plans of major companies, including Tesla, to invest tens of billions of dollars in new AI projects against the backdrop of tightening regulation and trade restrictions. For Chinese analysts this is part of a broader picture: the US, in their view, seeks to maintain leadership in critical technologies by combining massive private investments and state support with export and sanction pressure on China. Within China this is presented as a stimulus to accelerate “scientific and technological self‑sufficiency” and simultaneously as proof that Washington sees Beijing not as a partner but as a structural rival that must be contained across the board — from semiconductors to financial flows.

A notable feature of the Chinese discussion is the almost complete absence of a personalized focus on Trump. Unlike in Russia, where the image of a specific American leader plays a large role, Chinese commentators try to speak of the “US as a whole” as a system. In official and semi‑official discourse it is emphasized that changes of administrations in Washington may shift emphases but not the strategic line of containing China. That is why Chinese analysis pays far more attention to institutional documents (the same strategic reviews, the Pentagon’s budget priorities, industrial support laws) than to Trump’s public outbursts. The American course is seen as a long trend that requires a symmetric long‑term response: strengthening regional initiatives (from SCO to BRICS+), developing alternative payment systems and enhancing the resilience of the domestic market. Unlike the Russian discourse, which often contains the thesis of “US decline,” Chinese economists are more cautious: they acknowledge the US’s technological and financial superiority and talk rather about a gradual redistribution of power than about the imminent collapse of the hegemon.

At the intersection of all these conversations another important storyline emerges — Europe’s place between the US, China and India, and how Washington’s actions inadvertently push allies toward greater autonomy. The already mentioned debate around strengthening ties between the EU and India is especially indicative here. In European and Indian press this is directly interpreted as a demonstration to the world that “alternatives to the US exist”: high‑level visits, discussions of defense contracts, promotion of a free trade agreement, albeit with serious exceptions like agriculture. At the same time writers do not hide the fact that both Europe and India face criticism for excessive pragmatism: Paris and Brussels are reminded of proclaimed “values” when they strike deals with New Delhi amid reports of pressure on minorities, and India — of its unwillingness to break with Russia despite Western sanctions. In this triangular game the US appears both as an irritant and a necessary comparison: against the backdrop of Washington’s protectionism and unpredictability, any durable agreement with a “third power” is presented as a step toward a “sovereign Europe” or a “self‑reliant India.”

Interestingly, in Russia itself this Europe‑India maneuver is closely watched and usually interpreted not as India’s final break with the US but as New Delhi’s attempt to expand its maneuvering space. Russian experts remind that India remains the world’s largest arms importer and historically relied on Soviet and Russian supplies, so its current rapprochement with the EU and largely with the US is primarily utilitarian. This perspective allows Moscow to speak of “polycentricity” and a “weakening of American hegemony,” even if in practice many of Delhi’s steps objectively strengthen India’s ties with the Western bloc.

The result is a strikingly layered international portrait of the US. For the Russian audience Washington today is primarily an ideological and military adversary whose strategy requires Russia to strengthen nuclear deterrence, domestic resilience and integration with nearby allies like Belarus. For the Chinese audience it is a systemic rival in the techno‑economic sphere, forcing an acceleration of its own scientific and technological base and a reorientation of global chains. For the Indian audience it is an uneasy but necessary partner whose protectionist and unilateral moves both irritate and open opportunities for bargaining and diversification.

A common theme that unexpectedly unites these different perspectives is the belief that America can no longer, and perhaps no longer wants to be, the “world policeman” in the old sense. Russia, China and India all proceed from the assumption that Washington will increasingly shift the burden of conflict onto allies, act selectively according to domestic political cycles, and use the ideology of democracy as an instrument rather than as an absolute principle. But this realization does not lead to a simple “anti‑American consensus.” On the contrary, each of the three countries tries to incorporate the American transformation into its own strategies: Moscow — as justification for strengthening defense and a course toward a “sovereign civilization,” Beijing — as an incentive for an accelerated technological leap and expansion of its own institutions, New Delhi — as a chance to raise the stakes in bargaining simultaneously with Washington, Brussels and Moscow.

Seen only through the eyes of American or Western European press, much of this remains offstage. But these local conversations — about separatism in Alberta as a tool of pressure, about how Trump’s tariffs push Europe into deals with India, about how Chinese companies are reshaping their investment portfolios because of American crypto and high‑tech policy — show that the world is not merely “reacting” to Washington. It is learning to use a new, tougher and more egocentric America as a resource — sometimes in concert with it, sometimes against it, but almost always without the former reverence for its “leadership.”

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How the World Argues with America: Japan, Israel and Turkey View Washington

At the end of January 2026, there is a lot of nervous talk about America in Japan, Israel and Turkey — but the focus differs in each place. In Tokyo the United States is seen primarily through the prism of the Fed and Taiwan; in Ankara — through Washington’s decisions on interest rates and Donald Trump’s political pressure on Jerome Powell; and in Israel — through the hardline American stance on Iran, postwar settlement in Gaza and a new security architecture with the White House. At the same time, several storylines unexpectedly converge in all three countries: concern about the politicization of U.S. economic policy, growing dependence on Washington’s security decisions, and a sense that Trump’s second term is increasing global instability rather than calming it.

The most immediate theme, visible in all three countries, is the January Federal Reserve meeting, which left the policy rate at 3.50–3.75% and recorded the first “pause” after a series of cuts at the end of 2025. In Japan this is discussed as a factor for the yen’s exchange rate and a bubble in the U.S. stock market: OANDA Japan analysts describe the rate hold and the S&P 500 rising above 7,000 points as “a situation where talk of AI and easing policy pushes investors toward risk” and warn of heightened vulnerability if the Fed suddenly adopts a tougher tone. In the review “ニュースTop10と今日の整理” a private analyst writing under the pseudonym Zack points out that Powell is publicly urging the future head of the Fed to “stay away from electoral politics” and is conspicuously stressing the central bank’s independence from the White House — a signal that in Japanese circles is interpreted as a veiled response to Trump’s pressure and a sign that the topic of Fed politicization has become a global market risk.

In Turkey the same Fed pause is presented very differently. Economic portals such as Milliyet Uzmanpara and Endeks24 foreground that rate decisions are made “in the shadow of political challenges” — an open call by President Trump for further rate cuts and a criminal investigation initiated by the administration into Jerome Powell. Uzmanpara’s piece states plainly that the committee “will decide the rate trajectory under pressure from the president’s calls for cheaper money and the legal troubles surrounding the Fed chair,” and in an analysis on Hisse.net the author calls the scenario of further cuts “hanging in the air” precisely because of the clash between the Fed’s economic logic and the White House’s political demands. For Turkish commentators this invites a painful parallel: a country that itself long suffered from a central bank subordinated to political will now shows readers how similar risks are being “imported” into Washington. On the portal Aydinpost the decision to hold the rate is called a “first stop” after a series of easings, and they emphasize that it was not unanimous: the dissent of two FOMC members who voted for another cut is interpreted as a sign of intra-political division within the American economic elite.

Israeli media, overall, are less caught up in the fine points of U.S. monetary policy and much more focused on how American strategy in the region affects the country’s survival. In the daily pre-election “diary” on the Zman Israel portal the Fed decree hardly figures; instead the threat from Trump to Tehran is front and center: “sign the nuclear deal, otherwise the next strike will be far worse.” The same page quotes a reply from an advisor to Iran’s supreme leader: “any military action by the U.S. will lead to strikes on the U.S., Israel and all who support them.” The diary’s author explains to readers that American rhetoric effectively makes Israel a secondary but inevitable target in any escalation, and that this increases Jerusalem’s dependence on the American nuclear and diplomatic “umbrella,” which in the hands of an unpredictable Trump becomes both a shield and a source of risk.

The second major storyline connecting Japan and the Middle East is the reconfiguration of the American security alliance system. In Tokyo the subject of the biggest recent debate is Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi’s statement that if Japan does not support American forces in the event of a conflict over Taiwan, “the Japan-U.S. alliance could collapse.” Foreign press, citing Japanese sources, also covers this: Takaichi had to explain that she was not talking about going to war with China but about “rescuing Japanese and American citizens in Taiwan,” yet public debate in Japan has gone far beyond purely legal nuances. Liberal commentators in the Japanese press see in her words a dangerous willingness to “adjust” the interpretation of the pacifist constitution to Washington’s interests — in order to preserve the alliance under a Trump administration that systematically weakens multilateral institutions. Conservative outlets, by contrast, stress that given China’s growing military pressure in the region, “without the resolve to help the U.S., Japan risks being left alone at the most dangerous moment.”

At the other end of Eurasia Israel is discussing a similar-in-substance but different-in-form process: a Reuters report, republished by Newsweek Japan, about the preparation of a new ten-year security deal between Jerusalem and the Trump administration. Gil Pinchas, former chief financial adviser to the Israel Defense Forces, quoted in the Financial Times, says upcoming negotiations will be not only about money but about the “partner nature of the relationship,” and warns that the volume of annual U.S. aid (currently about $3.3 billion for arms purchases and another $5 billion for missile defense under the existing memorandum) could be reduced. For Israeli commentators this signals a dual dependency: on one hand, Israel counts on continued access to American technology and joint missile defense projects; on the other, it understands that any tightening of America’s fiscal austerity or isolationist agenda will first hit military aid to allies. Paradoxically, Israeli press rarely frames this vulnerability as an argument for diversifying alliances; on the contrary, many commentators stress the need to integrate even more tightly into the American defense ecosystem to minimize the risk of cuts.

Japanese public opinion about U.S. foreign policy in the region is currently more preoccupied not with the Middle East per se but with the protracted Gaza conflict and the future of the “American peace plan.” In a major analytical piece in Toyo Keizai on prospects for 2026 the author recalls that the Trump administration was the main broker of the ceasefire between Israel and Hamas in autumn 2025 and later secured U.N. approval for a plan to deploy international stabilization forces in Gaza. The Japanese author describes the U.S. peace initiative as “vague in substance and extremely politically unstable”: for Tokyo it is important how ready Washington is not only to push the settlement formula but to provide financial and logistical support for a peacekeeping presence — against the backdrop of growing dissatisfaction with Trump within the U.S. and the approach of the 2026 midterm elections. The Japanese perspective here is strikingly pragmatic: American diplomacy is seen primarily as a factor of predictability for the global economy, not as moral leadership.

Israeli sources, meanwhile, focus on a different aspect of the American role in Gaza. In a JETRO piece on bilateral relations it is emphasized that the recent ceasefire and Trump’s subsequent stabilization plan were viewed positively by about 68% of respondents — a rare example of broad support for American diplomacy in Israeli society. But a parallel stream of news — about possible cuts to U.S. military aid, hardline ultimatums to Iran and rumors of a reassessment of agreements with regional players like Turkey and Saudi Arabia — sets an anxious tone: Israel is receiving powerful but highly personalized support from the White House, which can change sharply with the slightest domestic political shift in the U.S.

The Turkish view of U.S. Middle East policy now sounds especially cautious. In a Japanese reprint of JETRO’s report on a Trump-Netanyahu meeting at Mar-a-Lago it is noted that Iran and Turkey were on the agenda: Ankara, as a NATO member and simultaneously a regional competitor of Israel, is carefully watching whether the new closeness between Washington and Jerusalem is being used as a lever of pressure on itself. The Turkish commentary sphere, when talking about American policy in the region, is today less about debating the Israeli-Palestinian track as such and much more about the general trend: the U.S. is strengthening bilateral military formats with “selected” partners, creating a network of dependencies rather than durable multilateral institutions. Against this backdrop even purely economic Fed decisions on rates are interpreted in Turkey through a geopolitical lens: a stable dollar and high yields on American assets are not only a question of returns but also a way for Washington to keep developing economies within its financial orbit.

Finally, another nerve shared by Japan, Israel and Turkey is the political trajectory of the United States itself and the upcoming 2026 elections. Japanese state and quasi-state institutions, such as JETRO and the association of former diplomats “Kasumigasekikai,” portray the Trump administration in their analyses as a source of “structural uncertainty.” Reports on preparations for the midterms emphasize that the president is betting on confrontation and increasing internal polarization, relying on emergency powers and aggressive use of executive orders. In an interview for Kasumigasekikai, well-known U.S. expert Glenn Fukushima notes that the Trump team prepared for a second term in advance, including through ideological projects like the famous “Project 2025” at the Heritage Foundation, and that this makes the internal transformation of the American state much deeper than in the first term. For a Japanese audience the key conclusion is simple: the more unpredictable and concentrated power becomes in Washington, the more important it is for Tokyo to have its own scenarios in case of a sharp turn in American foreign and economic policy.

The Israeli pre-election chronicle published on Zman Israel views the same processes from a different angle. There the emphasis is less on institutional risk and more on Trump’s personal style: his remarks in Davos, where he simultaneously threatens Iran and hints at the possibility of sweeping deals, are described as “playing on the edge,” which the Israeli elite must publicly support even though in private many politicians and military figures admit that such heavy dependence on the will of one American leader creates for Israel “a point of vulnerability, not just strength.” Nevertheless, given the continuing threats from Iran and the instability of neighboring regimes, Israeli commentators so far see no realistic alternative to a close alliance with the U.S.

In Turkey the upcoming U.S. elections are seen as a factor that could sharply change Washington’s approach to Ankara — from sanctions pressure to cooperation on Syria and the Caucasus. However, the Turkish press is far less detailed in assessing American domestic politics: instead of parsing the nuances between Democrats and Republicans, a binary logic predominates — “an administration prone to sanctions and intervention” versus “an administration prone to deals and pragmatism.” By this logic the current Trump is of the latter type: he can press the Fed or allies hard, but he is also ready for bilateral deals if he sees economic benefit. Therefore, for some Turkish economic and political commentators the main question is whether this “pragmatic” unpredictability will be replaced after the 2026 elections by a more ideological and harsher course.

If one tries to assemble these disparate voices into a single picture, a fairly clear international portrait of today’s United States emerges. For Japan it remains an indispensable economic and military-political anchor, but increasingly risky due to the politicization of institutions from the Fed to foreign policy. For Israel it is a vital patron and security partner whose ultimatum-style tough measures toward Iran and involvement in the Gaza settlement yield short-term dividends but at the same time tie the country’s future to domestic American political storms. For Turkey it is an ambivalent center of global financial and military power, whose ability to wield rates and the dollar shapes Ankara’s economy, while also opening the potential for targeted deals with Trump as a deal-making politician.

The common denominator of all these discussions is a shift in the perception of the U.S. from a predictable “leader of the free world” to a large, conflictual and increasingly institutionally unbound power whose decisions must not only be supported or criticized but constantly hedged. That is exactly what Tokyo, Jerusalem and Ankara see in Washington today — and what rarely makes it into the view of those who read only American media.

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World Watches Washington: How Japan, India and Russia React to Trump's Return

Global commentary on the United States now largely revolves around a single storyline: Donald Trump’s return to the White House and how American foreign and economic policy will change for the rest of the world. In Japan this is discussed through the prism of security and risks to alliance commitments. In India the focus shifts to trade, technological partnership and balancing Washington, Moscow and Brussels. In Russia, talk about the U.S. remains part of a broader discussion about sanctions, war and the “decline of American hegemony.” Against this background each country has its own anxieties and hopes, which are often invisible in American media.

The main common theme is Trump’s second administration and the fate of American leadership. In Japanese expert circles the very phrase トランプ新政権 — “the new Trump administration” — has already become an object of analysis. The research institute RIETI devoted an entire seminar to “the foreign and defense policy of the new Trump and Japan’s strategy,” where Tsuneo Watanabe, senior fellow at the Sasakawa Peace Foundation, explained that Trump’s victory became possible amid economic discontent and American fatigue with their country’s global role, and that Tokyo must now prepare for a “more transactional” alliance, where Washington will be more demanding of its allies on defense spending and trade concessions. The event’s abstract explicitly states that the key question for Japan is “what influence Trump’s second term will have and what strategic response Tokyo needs to develop”; the presence of a senior METI official as a commentator underlines that this is not an abstract academic discussion but a matter of real policy. This is not just fear of an “unpredictable Trump,” but a more pragmatic question: how to preserve security guarantees while avoiding becoming a target of his protectionist tariffs. (rieti.go.jp)

The Japanese press, including business outlets, actively compares possible courses under Trump and his Democratic rivals, discussing the dichotomy not in terms of “pro-” and “anti-” Japan policy, but in the logic of which scenario creates more manageable risks. Political scientist Taiki Wada, in a detailed analysis for Asahi Shimbun’s “Tsugino jidai” platform during the height of the campaign, posed the question: “If the next president is Trump or Harris, how will U.S. policy toward Japan, China, Taiwan and Europe change?” The author concludes that a policy of containing China will most likely remain regardless of the president’s identity, and the basic parameters of the alliance with Japan will continue. But regarding Europe, Ukraine and climate policy, the Trump scenario is seen as much more turbulent, which indirectly affects Tokyo as it will have to navigate between its American ally and European partners. Japanese pieces often emphasize that for Taiwan and Northeast Asia the U.S. president is not an abstract question of values but one of physical security. (smbiz.asahi.com)

A separate body of Japanese material is devoted to the economy: business associations and sector experts recall the first Trump administration, his tariffs and withdrawal from climate agreements. In an analytical review, JETRO reminds readers that protectionist measures and rejection of multilateral economic regimes in 2017–2020 were the main source of concern for Japanese companies, and that in a second term this vector could become “even more varied and aggressive.” It also notes that corporate surveys in Japan register primarily fear of possible new tariffs and a rollback of climate policy, rather than cultural or immigration aspects that often dominate American media coverage. This is a typical example of “local optics”: for Tokyo, Trump is first and foremost a variable in the equation “trade + security,” not a symbol of culture wars. (jetro.go.jp)

In India the tone of public conversation about the U.S. is noticeably less alarmed and much more pragmatic. The main focus there has become the prospect of a bilateral trade agreement and how the new Washington administration will affect the economic agenda. Presented in New Delhi, the Economic Survey for 2025–2026 explicitly states that trade negotiations with the U.S. could conclude during this year and that concluding a deal would “reduce external uncertainty and strengthen India’s trade environment.” Both Economic Times and Times of India frame this as a strategic goal: to convert the political rapprochement of recent years — from the QUAD to defense procurements — into a durable architecture of access to the U.S. market, especially in services and the digital economy. (m.economictimes.com)

Indian commentators emphasize the ambivalence of American policy. At the level of official ritual, relations with the U.S. are portrayed almost as a success story of two democracies: Washington’s congratulations to India on its 77th Republic Day were described in Indian news with phrases about “historic ties” and “close cooperation,” and the U.S. message stressed an “expanding partnership” in defense, technology and security. But at the same time there is a harsher conversation about tariffs, sanctions and American attempts to limit India’s ties with Russia. In Indian discussion this is often framed as a need to “diversify pillars”: alongside the U.S., deepen ties with the European Union as an “alternative to American dominance.” A characteristic example is a column in France’s Le Monde, cited and discussed by Indian media: it describes strengthening EU–India ties as a demonstration to the world that “alternatives to the U.S. exist,” especially against the backdrop of Trump’s protectionism and high U.S. tariffs on Indian goods. (timesofindia.indiatimes.com)

Notably, Indian debates rarely raise the question of the “reliability” of American security guarantees in the tone heard in Japan or Europe. India is not a treaty ally, possesses its own nuclear triad and seeks to maintain a status of “strategic autonomy.” Thus local analysts view the U.S. as one of several partners with whom they must negotiate hard. Where Japanese texts speak of the need to “minimize potential chaos” from a change in the American administration, Indian ones discuss how to exploit internal contradictions in American policy to extract the best terms in trade, technology and defense. And if European commentators in Le Monde fear that Washington under Trump may revert to protectionism and populism, some Indian authors see an opening: a U.S. preoccupied by domestic polarization will be willing to delegate part of the responsibility for regional security to India in exchange for a closer economic partnership.

The Russian picture in the public space is predictably different: in Russia the U.S. is discussed almost exclusively in the context of Ukraine, sanctions and the struggle for a multipolar world. Russian commentators in state media and Kremlin‑aligned think tanks interpret Trump’s return as a symptom of a “crisis in the American political system” and “loss of trust in the elites.” This is usually accompanied by the thesis that regardless of who sits in the Oval Office, Washington’s “anti‑Russian course” will remain, but American turbulence is allegedly beneficial to Moscow because it limits Washington’s ability to pursue a long and costly confrontation.

At the same time, in more professional discussions, including economic circles, one can see sober assessments: the future of sanctions, oil price caps and export controls on technologies is still largely determined by the position of the U.S. and its coalition. Some economists and entrepreneurs speaking in Russian media cautiously note that the tough U.S. export control regime rolled out under Biden may even intensify under Trump due to his focus on an “economic war” with China, under which Russia—being a partner of Beijing—would automatically fall. In that sense Russian “pragmatism” is the mirror opposite of Japanese and Indian approaches: while Tokyo and New Delhi look for ways to fit into the American economic architecture, Moscow discusses how to exit it permanently or at least minimize dependence.

It is interesting that different countries perceive the idea of “alternatives to the U.S.” differently. Japanese papers on the future Indo‑Pacific strategy often emphasize that the concept of a “free and open Indo‑Pacific” was born under the first Trump administration and was then reinforced by Biden. CSIS experts interviewed by JETRO after the election note that under both Trump and his Democratic opponents the QUAD and the Indo‑Pacific framework will remain important, although style and rhetoric may differ significantly. So in Japanese optics “alternatives to the U.S.” is more a matter of diversification within a persisting American axis than a full departure from Washington’s orbit. (jetro.go.jp)

In Indian discourse the thesis about alternatives sounds bolder. The EU–India rapprochement, actively described in European press as an attempt to show the world other centers of power besides the U.S., is perceived in New Delhi as a complement to the existing triangle “India–U.S.–Russia.” An important detail emphasized by both European and Indian analysts: despite Western pressure over Ukraine, India does not sever military and energy ties with Moscow. For many Indian authors this is the practical definition of strategic autonomy: cooperate with Washington where it is beneficial, with the EU where it strengthens bargaining power, and maintain an independent line with Russia even if it irritates the U.S.

The Russian view of these same processes is ironic and suspicious: in Moscow discourse closer India–EU or India–U.S. ties are often described as a Western attempt to “tear” New Delhi away from Moscow, whereas Indian commentators talk about expanding maneuvering space, not switching camps. This contrast makes starting assumptions starkly different: Russia sees the world through the prism of camps and “blocs,” while India and Japan see it more as intersecting architectures and networks.

Finally, almost all three countries raise themes that in the U.S. often remain peripheral. In Japan much is written about how American domestic polarization and violence—from the Capitol riot to the assassination attempt on Trump during the campaign—undermine the image of the U.S. as a model of stable democracy. But even these worries are framed pragmatically: how reliable is a partner whose internal struggles can block budgets or military aid to allies? In India, by contrast, criticism of American democracy often serves as a mirror for domestic debate: liberal commentators compare the rise of populism and religious polarization in the U.S. to developments at home, while nationalist authors use American problems to argue against “Western moralizing.” In Russia the topic of American democracy is almost always instrumentalized by propaganda as evidence of Western “hypocrisy,” but behind this noise lies a more serious question Russian elites seem to ask themselves: how many more years can the U.S. sustain its current level of external confrontation if its society is so divided?

If one attempts to gather these disparate voices into a single picture, an ambiguous but important conclusion emerges. For Japan the U.S. remains an indispensable security guarantor but an increasingly unpredictable partner whose whims require adapting trade and defense policy. For India the U.S. is one of the key but not sole pillars of foreign strategy, to be negotiated with pragmatism while balancing Washington, Brussels and Moscow. For Russia the U.S. is both the main rival and the main structuring factor of its foreign policy: its internal weakness is interpreted as a chance for a multipolar world, but its economic and technological power still sets the bounds of the possible.

These differences are rarely visible in American media: U.S. domestic debate tends to view foreign policy as a continuation of internal disputes, measuring everything through “pro‑Trump” and “anti‑Trump,” “liberals” and “conservatives.” But looking from Tokyo, New Delhi or Moscow, the U.S. appears less as an arena of culture wars and more as a variable in a complex equation of security, trade and strategic autonomy. And it is these foreign equations, not only the American domestic dispute, that will determine the real impact of the new administration in Washington on the world in the coming years.

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American-style peace: how France, Ukraine and Saudi Arabia debate the new role of the US

Around the United States, a global lens is forming again: how to talk about war and peace, where the boundaries of American influence lie, and how ready — or not ready — the rest of the world is to accept that the key to ending the largest European war once again rests in Washington. In recent weeks the United States has been at the center of debates in France, Ukraine and Saudi Arabia: from a “Trumpist” peace for Ukraine to worries about the future of the transatlantic alliance and pragmatic admiration for the American–Arab energy and investment partnership.

The central theme linking all three countries is President Donald Trump’s attempt to quickly “close” Russia’s war against Ukraine through a series of negotiations, culminating in trilateral US–Russia–Ukraine meetings in Abu Dhabi without European participation. That format sparked an outpouring of commentary: in France — about Europe’s marginalization and an “American deal-based order”; in Ukraine — about the price Washington is effectively asking to be paid for peace; and on the Arabian Peninsula — about how the war in Eastern Europe became a platform to strengthen the Gulf’s geopolitical role and a new type of relationship with America. Running in parallel is a second cross-cutting theme: how American priorities for allies and partners have changed under Trump 2 — from trust to mistrust, from dependence to attempts to build autonomy, from ideological expectations to purely transactional calculations.

One of the most resonant points is the Abu Dhabi negotiation format itself. In France people noticed primarily what was not there: Europe. In an analysis for Le Monde, French writers stress that the trilateral talks between the US, Russia and Ukraine in the United Arab Emirates marked a “new phase” of diplomacy in which European capitals found themselves outside the door, even though the war is being fought on their borders. The report on the Abu Dhabi meetings emphasizes that the US mediators are not the classic career diplomats but Trump’s special emissary Steve Whitkoff, the president’s son-in-law Jared Kushner and his new adviser on the so-called “Peace Council,” Josh Greenbaum, a structure launched by Trump on the sidelines of the Davos forum. For French readers this appears not only as a geopolitical but also a stylistic break with traditional “Atlantic” diplomacy: one commentary for Le Monde notes that “Washington is building a parallel architecture of settlement in which the EU is assigned the role of observer, not co-architect” (lemonde.fr).

Against this backdrop, a separate storyline in France criticizes the broader US shift under Trump. In an address to ambassadors in early January, President Emmanuel Macron warned that America is “gradually turning away” from some of its allies and “exiting the system of international rules,” and that multilateral institutions are “working worse and worse” (theguardian.com). In the context of Abu Dhabi, these words are read not as abstract lament but as an accurate diagnosis: a settlement crucial for Europe is being moved into the closed rooms of the Emirates, where the EU is invited after the fact rather than as an equal participant. For the French political scene this reinforces an old argument: Europe must more quickly build its own defense and diplomatic autonomy if it does not want to wake up as a bit player in a deal between Washington and Moscow.

The Ukrainian debate about the US is, in its own way, harsher and more existential. Kyiv simultaneously depends on Washington as its main military and political guarantor and is speaking increasingly loudly about the price the American administration is proposing to pay for a ceasefire. In its analysis, ZN.ua examines documents of the so-called “new Trump peace plan,” where, according to the publication, Washington ties Ukraine’s postwar arrangement not only to territorial concessions but also to a strict agenda on “democratic standards” within Ukraine itself — from election timetables to parameters of domestic reform — while practically failing to impose mirror demands on Russia (zn.ua). The authors stress the dissonance: the White House publicly expresses concern about the state of Ukrainian democracy, but, judging by the project texts, appears uninterested in the absence of elections in Russia or the condition of its institutions.

A separate strand of Ukrainian texts focuses on what concessions the US considers “realistic.” In a ZN.ua piece recounting a Wall Street Journal analysis, it is said that Washington’s view boils down to Kyiv relinquishing parts of territory that for more than ten years were the cornerstones of its defense, in exchange for a Western military shield unacceptable to Moscow (zn.ua). At the same time, Politico, cited by Ukrainian commentators, lists three core issues blocking an agreement: the status of occupied territories, the parameters of Ukraine’s future armed forces and the extent of sanctions pressure on Russia after peace. Ukrainian analysts sum up: “An agreement is close on almost everything except what really matters” (zn.ua).

Assessments of American public opinion also play an important role in Ukraine’s domestic discussion. Ukrainian media closely cite an Economist/YouGov poll showing that nearly half of Americans disapprove of Trump’s approach to resolving the war in Ukraine (zn.ua). For Kyiv’s analysts this is a double-edged signal: on the one hand, public dissatisfaction can restrain the White House from exerting too much pressure on Ukraine; on the other, public fatigue with the conflict pushes Washington toward seeking a “quick peace,” even if it cements Russian territorial gains. In one ZN.ua commentary the author notes that “Washington is beginning to view the war through the prism of domestic politics and elections, rather than through the prism of European security,” and that this is the root of Kyiv’s anxiety.

Interestingly, Ukrainian leadership in public statements tries to strike a balance. President Volodymyr Zelensky, commenting on the latest negotiation rounds and work with the US, speaks of the need to “reach a result as soon as possible” and emphasizes that together with the negotiation team and the government they “have identified things that need to be worked through more deeply in the agreement with the US on postwar recovery” (zn.ua). In Ukraine’s information space this reads as an attempt to shift the emphasis: to discuss not only the territorial parameters of peace but also the guarantee package of security and reconstruction that Washington is willing to commit to for Ukraine.

The same events are viewed from a very different angle in the Arab press, including in Saudi Arabia and the broader Gulf media space closely linked to the kingdom. For regional media, the very geography of the talks — from meetings in Riyadh and Abu Dhabi to the London track — has become a symbol that the Gulf has become a mandatory venue for major Washington deals, whether the peace in Ukraine or multi‑trillion-dollar investment packages.

Arabic-language outlets extensively cover the Abu Dhabi talks, emphasizing their “constructive” character and the parties’ readiness to continue dialogue. Euronews Arabic quotes Volodymyr Zelensky saying that “much was discussed” and that the main thing is the talks were “constructive,” with the possibility of new meetings as early as the start of the following week (arabic.euronews.com). In another piece on the Elaph portal, the talks are called the first three-way format involving Russia, Ukraine and the US since the start of the full-scale war, and Kremlin sources describe them as “useful in every respect,” while clearly stipulating that lasting peace is impossible without resolving territorial issues (elaph.com). For Arab readers this emphasis is important: America acts here less as a moral arbiter than as the chief broker of a deal between two warring parties.

Regional analysis is also closely watching how American presence in the Gulf is changing. In an analytical piece by the Washington Institute for Near East Policy published in Arabic, Trump’s 2025 investment tour of the Gulf — including Saudi Arabia, Qatar and the UAE — is examined in detail. The author notes that the president focused on securing “$2 trillion in investment deals,” including infrastructure, energy, technology and urban development, and that in Abu Dhabi he reportedly “accelerated” a previously announced Emirati investment package into the US economy and signed a bilateral agreement on artificial intelligence (washingtoninstitute.org). This is presented as an example of a new, explicitly transactional approach: security and political patronage in exchange for massive investments and technological partnership.

A pragmatic tone dominates Saudi and Gulf-aligned Arabic media. Regarding Ukraine, the emphasis is less on the moral-legal side of the conflict and more on how an American “quick peace” strategy will affect global oil, food and energy security markets. Commenting on American pressure on Kyiv to speed up negotiations, authors on Al Jazeera Arabic’s portal note that the White House is urging Ukraine to “rationalize expectations” after almost four years of war, acknowledging the impossibility of full military recovery of territorial integrity, and sees negotiations as the best of realistic options while the balance of forces on the battlefield does not worsen further (aljazeera.net). In this logic American policy is framed not as a “betrayal of democracy” but as another episode of the big game in which Washington acts according to the balance of costs and benefits that is most advantageous to it.

Arab commentators also point to another aspect: Trump uses the Ukraine peace process and the associated “historic” session in Abu Dhabi — that is how White House press secretary Caroline Levitt described these talks (arabic.rt.com) — as a tool to bolster his international image as a “deal-maker” and peacemaker who has “ended eight wars,” as he likes to emphasize. An Al Jazeera piece covering his meetings with Zelensky in Florida quotes Trump saying he is “in the final stage of negotiations” and that if an agreement is not concluded now “the war could drag on,” while also asserting that Putin is “seriously committed to peace” (aljazeera.net). For an Arab audience, accustomed to US presidents’ primary focus on the Middle East, the transfer of the “peacemaker” image to Eastern Europe looks like an expansion of a familiar model — but with the same instruments of pressure and incentives the region knows well from Middle Eastern cases.

Comparing the three countries’ attitudes toward the broader theme “the US and its allies after Trump 2” yields an even more layered picture. The French discussion revolves around trust and predictability. On one hand, official leaders including Macron publicly congratulate Trump on his victory and state their readiness to “work together, as in the previous four years” (aljazeera.com). On the other hand, French analysts, including in the left-liberal press, raise the question of how much Europe can rely on an American ally who openly questions the meaning of NATO and demonstrates a willingness to ignore European interests when making deals with Moscow. In one commentary reported by English-language media, Macron speaks openly of a world of “great powers,” in which there is again “the temptation to divide the world into spheres of influence” (theguardian.com) — and for French readers the identity of those powers is obvious: the US, China, Russia, not the EU as an independent pole.

The Ukrainian perspective is essentially a debate about where alliance ends and coercion begins. When American mediators in Florida tie security issues, the unblocking of Russian assets and the holding of elections in Ukraine into a single package, as the Ukrainian press wrote citing ABC News sources (zn.ua), this is perceived as a signal: support is not unconditional, and Washington is ready to bargain hard even with the victim. It is no accident that in Kyiv calls are increasingly heard not only to strengthen ties with the US but also to expand room for maneuver — from deepening cooperation with the UK and individual EU countries to more active engagement with the Global South.

In Saudi Arabia and neighboring countries the view is the opposite: the US is still seen as the key security guarantor and main economic partner, but a partner with whom relations must be built on a strictly pragmatic, almost corporate basis. Deep investment deals, joint technologies, oil and gas coordination, and now diplomatic mediation on their soil — all these form an image of America not as the “leader of the free world” but as a powerful, yet perfectly rational counterparty with whom it is possible and necessary to bargain. Analysis following Trump’s investment trip to the region emphasizes that preserving American interests amid such large-scale deals will require “constant and careful oversight” from Washington, otherwise the balance could shift in favor of regional players (washingtoninstitute.org). For the Saudi elite this means one simple thing: the space for maneuver and playing off US tensions with China, Russia and Europe may never have been so wide.

A detail not obvious to an American reader in all these discussions is how differently the idea of an “American peace” is perceived across the three countries. In France it is more a reminder of the painful experiences of Iraq, Libya and Afghanistan and a fear that another “deal-based” settlement under US auspices will legitimize territorial grabs and undermine the remnants of international law. In Ukraine it is the agonizing question of whether there is any alternative to a peace on terms advanced by Washington, and how to avoid becoming an object of trade among great powers. In Saudi Arabia it is an almost cynical but sober view: if an American peace is going to be built anyway, one should be not a passive observer but the venue and participant in the deal, converting it as much as possible into money, technology and enhanced influence.

Taken together, this leads to a paradoxical conclusion. Under Trump 2, the United States is simultaneously losing the aura of moral “leader of the West” and strengthening its status as an indispensable broker and military superpower. France responds with anxiety and talk of autonomy, Ukraine with a mixture of gratitude and fear about the cost of a “quick peace,” and Saudi Arabia with pragmatic calculation and a desire to fit into the new architecture of deals. None of these perspectives fully matches how America describes itself. And it is precisely in this divergence that the main thing to note about the world’s reactions to the US today lies: even those who need American power increasingly disbelieve the American narrative, while becoming ever more tied to American reality.

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How America Is Seen from Seoul, Ankara and Kyiv: Trump’s Election, Ukraine, and a New Image of the...

Today the world discusses the United States not as an “abstract superpower,” but as a source of direct risks and opportunities for its own security and economy. In South Korea, Turkey and Ukraine America almost always appears in two contexts: the personality of President Donald Trump and his unpredictable style; and the future of the global security architecture — from the war in Ukraine to alliances in Europe and Asia. These three countries, each dependent on Washington in different ways, watch every gesture from the White House closely and try to understand: how will their own tomorrows change.

The first common thread is the influence of domestic American politics and Trump’s presidency on the rest of the world. Turkish analysts, commenting on Trump’s campaign and subsequent steps, emphasize that current American policy is almost entirely tied to the president’s personality and to struggles among domestic lobbies. In an analytical article by Professor Mehmet Akif Kireçci of Ankara University of Social Sciences for the Anadolu news agency, under a prominent headline about who will determine the outcome of the presidential election — lobbies or “swing states” — the author effectively draws a parallel with Turkey: powerful interest groups, from the Jewish to the defense lobby, form a wide corridor for US foreign policy, but the final decision rests with the electorate of a few states, where voters think little about geopolitics and vote “for the wallet” and cultural identity. According to Kireçci, this makes Washington’s foreign policy unstable for partners: their fate is sometimes decided in Pennsylvania and Michigan, where Turkey, Ukraine or South Korea are remembered at best in the context of jobs at defense factories. The analytical text was published in the Russian-language version of Anadolu Ajansı and is available, among other places, as “ANALYTICS – Who Will Decide the Outcome of the US Presidential Election: Lobbies or ‘Swing’ States?” on the Anadolu agency website in Istanbul.

Ukrainian commentators view Trump even more harshly, because military and financial support for the country depends on his decisions. On the Freedom TV channel, political consultant Hleb Ostapenko emphasizes that the negotiation process between Kyiv and Washington “remains extremely complicated and susceptible to external influence, especially given the unpredictability of US President Donald Trump’s position,” reminding viewers that any direct communication between him and the Kremlin can sharply change the parameters of possible agreements between Kyiv and Washington. He said this in December 2025 in an interview posted on Freedom’s site under the headline “Negotiations between Ukraine and the US are Complicated by the Unpredictability of Trump’s Position, — Expert.” Ukrainian analysts thereby stress that for them the US is not only a “guarantor of support,” but also a source of constant strategic uncertainty: today the White House pressures Moscow, tomorrow it may pressure Kyiv, demanding concessions.

The second major common block is the role of the US in the war in Ukraine and in the West’s relations with Russia, which dominates the agenda especially in Kyiv and Ankara, but is also noticeable in Seoul. For Ukraine America is a key military donor and the architect of any possible peace agreement. Both the official line and independent analysts set the tone here. In February 2025 President Volodymyr Zelenskyy said in an interview with Anadolu that he counts on more active support from the US president and stressed: “I would like Mr. Trump to be more on our side. Many Republicans and Democrats in the US support us,” while also reminding that Kyiv will not accept decisions made without its participation. These remarks were published in the piece “President of Ukraine Counts on More Active Support from the US” on the Russian-language feed of Anadolu Ajansı. For a domestic Ukrainian audience such a message is double-edged: on one hand, it demonstrates dependence on the US and the need to “extract” a greater volume of aid; on the other, it asserts agency: Ukraine does not want to be the object of bargaining between Washington and Moscow.

Some Ukrainian and regional analysis is already discussing specific variants of American peace plans. In the Kazakh outlet Tengrinews, an article about the “fine-tuning of peace” examines leaks about a possible US plan in which Crimea is recognized as Russian, part of the occupied territories are returned to Ukraine, and Kyiv receives security guarantees without NATO membership but with the possibility of EU accession and allied military presence. The Tengrinews author writes that the American plan looks more favorable to Russia in terms of sanction relief, but does not satisfy its maximalist expectations regarding all occupied regions, and also notes that the European‑Ukrainian alternative plan bets on frozen Russian assets as a source for Ukraine’s reconstruction. The article was published in Tengrinews’ analytics section under the title “Fine‑Tuning of Peace. Where Negotiations Between the US, Ukraine and Russia Are Heading.”

From this, Ukrainian experts and media draw two conclusions. First, the US is seen as the architect of the future post‑war security configuration — without an American “seal” any peace plan seems fragile. Second, public sentiment within the US becomes a critical factor: Kyiv closely watches American public opinion polls that show how willing Washington is to continue or, conversely, reduce support. Ukrainian agency UNN, for example, in March 2025 extensively covered poll data according to which 46% of Americans believe the US is doing too little to help Ukraine, and 53% would like America to help Kyiv reclaim territories even at the cost of a prolonged conflict. In the piece “A Significant Number of US Citizens Support Increased Aid to Ukraine — Poll,” the agency emphasizes that these figures are perceived in Kyiv as leverage against Trump: if he makes excessive concessions to Moscow, he risks running afoul of the sentiments of a large part of his own society. That is why in Ukrainian media discourse the US appears simultaneously as the main ally and as a field of complex domestic political struggle, in which Ukraine must seek its supporters.

Turkey, meanwhile, is building a more multi‑move game around the “US — Europe — Turkey — Ukraine” triangle. In an analytical piece for AA Analitika, “Three Paths for Ukraine: The US, Europe and Turkey,” Turkish researcher Gürkan Demir outlines three scenarios for Ukraine’s future: reliance on the US with its military power and global influence; a bet on Europe with its financial resources and institutional integration; and a scenario in which Turkey acts as an independent regional guarantor and mediator. As Demir emphasizes, the American scenario promises the toughest confrontation with Russia and rapid military parity, but at the same time makes Kyiv vulnerable to the variability of Washington’s policy, which can shift attention to another region or face internal crises. The European path looks more stable in legal and economic terms, but Europe moves slower and more cautiously, while Kyiv lives in wartime mode. The Turkish option relies on Ankara’s experience in balancing between Moscow and Kyiv, as well as on its role in the grain deal and Black Sea issues. This analysis, published in the Russian‑language version of Anadolu Ajansı, is at once an assessment and a self‑presentation of Turkey as a key external center of power for Ukraine alongside the US and EU.

The South Korean discourse about the war in Ukraine is less emotional, but it views America through the prism of how Washington manages two fronts at once — the European and the Asian. For Seoul the question is whether US involvement in confronting Russia will weaken its ability to deter North Korea and China. South Korean conservative commentators typically insist that Ukraine’s defeat or a “bad peace” imposed by Americans in a compromise with Russia would signal to Pyongyang and Beijing that Washington is not prepared to go all the way for its allies. Liberal observers more often point to the need for Seoul to diversify its foreign‑policy supports, strengthening cooperation with Japan and developing its own defense industry so as not to depend so critically on the American agenda. In South Korean outlets writing about Ukraine, the US is present as the “central player”: local analysts try to gauge the scale of future American commitments in Asia through Washington’s decisions.

The third cross‑regional theme is the image of the US in multilateral formats and its influence on the global architecture. This includes the controversial boycott of the G20 summit in Johannesburg at the end of 2025, and discussions about how America treats platforms such as NATO, the UN or the G20. In a piece by the Russian business outlet RBC about the upcoming G20 summit without leaders of China, Russia and the US, Trump’s words are quoted in detail: he said that “no representative” of the US will come to South Africa because holding the summit there is a “real disgrace” due to, in his view, the persecution of Afrikaners, while at the same time enthusiastically announcing a G20 summit in Miami in 2026. This position is read in Ankara and Seoul as a signal: Washington is ready to devalue multilateral platforms if they do not suit its political taste, but seeks to turn them into instruments of its domestic politics when they are held on American soil. Turkish commentators return from this episode to the theme of “sovereignty of foreign policy”: Turkey, like other middle powers, tries to maintain maneuvering space in a world where the US alternately strengthens and devalues global institutions. South Korean analysts, by contrast, emphasize that even under such conditions there is no real alternative for Seoul to a close alliance with the US: any costs in multilateral formats are compensated by bilateral security guarantees.

The fourth important crosscutting theme is the cultural‑political perception of America as a polarized and conflictual society. Turkey, Ukraine and South Korea all actively comment on internal American splits, from debates over immigration to racial protests and the confrontation between conservatives and liberals. Turkish columns regularly compare American and Turkish polarization: Ankara sees in the United States not so much a model of democracy as an example of how institutions survive amid intense ideological conflict. Ukrainian authors, by contrast, tend to overestimate the resilience of the American system, viewing it as a guarantee that even an unpredictable president cannot fully turn the country toward Moscow. South Korean commentators most often view American politics through lessons for their own democracy: mass protests, pressure on courts, debates about freedom of speech on social networks are seen both as a warning and as an example of institutional resilience.

Against this background there is another, subtler common element — local societies’ attempt to “read” America more deeply than the English‑language news stream allows. Turkish analysts in AA Analitika carefully dissect how the American electoral map is structured, what less visible interest groups — from the agrarian lobby to shale oil producers — shape foreign‑policy priorities. Ukrainian commentators study American polls with the attention usually paid to domestic Ukrainian ratings, trying to calculate how much “window of opportunity” remains for continuing aid. South Korean experts look at the US military budget, competition with China and technological sanctions as structural trends in which personalities in the White House matter, but do not decide everything. As a result, the image of the US in these three countries turns out to be much more complex than what the American media scene often offers: it is simultaneously partner, patron, source of anxiety, object of study and, in a sense, a mirror in which each country sees its own fears and hopes.

That is why any next move by Washington — from Trump’s statement about boycotting the summit or another post on Truth Social to real decisions on Ukraine or Northeast Asia — is almost instantly reinterpreted in Seoul, Ankara and Kyiv not as an abstract news item about a distant superpower, but as an element of their own domestic and foreign policies. For Ukraine it means whether there will be cover for the skies and salaries for soldiers in six months’ time. For Turkey — whether there will remain room for “multi‑vector” policy and bargaining among Washington, Moscow and Brussels. For South Korea — how reliable American guarantees are if the White House’s attention is torn between Europe, the Middle East and the Pacific. Thus behind the façade of familiar headlines about “US decisions” emerges a picture of many local readings of America — differing in tone, but remarkably in agreement on one thing: far too much still depends on Washington for them to afford the luxury of not watching its every move.

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How the World Argues with Trump’s America: Australia, Brazil and Ukraine on the US's New Role

At the start of 2026, conversations about the United States in different parts of the world unexpectedly converge on a few common themes. Trump’s name is heard everywhere, the word "tariffs" recurs, and the question is whether Washington can still be the architect of the international order if it is the one breaking the old rules. In Australia doubts come to the fore about whether the country has become a hostage to Washington through the giant AUKUS defense deal. In Brazil people discuss a painful trade war with the US and how Trump’s protectionism will hit growth and the country’s self-image as an emerging power. In Ukraine talks about the US are tied almost exclusively to peace and war: a settlement plan, security guarantees, the likelihood of ending the conflict, and the price Kyiv will pay for American mediation.

The throughline is obvious: America is no longer perceived as the stable "anchor" of the liberal order. In different corners of the world it is feared, resented, hoped in — but almost no one speaks of the old "normality" anymore.

One of the most emotionally charged conversations today is that Trump has turned the US from a guarantor of "rules" into the main source of geopolitical turbulence. In Australia this theme unexpectedly merged with the national holiday and long-standing complexes of a junior ally. In Paul Daley’s column in The Guardian, timed to January 26 — a date already fraught with debates about colonial legacy — the idea is expressed that Australia swapped one empire for another and is now, "under the cloak of little America," tied to the US by the multibillion-dollar AUKUS deal worth $368 billion. The author asks a simple but troubling question: what would have to happen for Canberra to seriously consider terminating AUKUS and reassessing the alliance with the US, if the White House is occupied by Trump, who openly disregards "rules" and treats allies as things that cannot be "monetized"? This framing is no longer a marginal pacifist stance but a cautious mainstream of the liberal intelligentsia, for whom "Trump’s America" is not merely an inconvenient partner but a new form of dependency that threatens Australian sovereignty. The same point is made, more directly, by former prime minister Malcolm Turnbull, who called Trump a "bully" and urged current prime minister Anthony Albanese to publicly acknowledge that the global political landscape is changing under him. In an interview recounted in The Guardian piece, he criticizes the government for being unwilling to honestly tell the public that the "rules‑based order" no longer functions, and that AUKUS binds Australia even more tightly to an unpredictable Washington where, he says, negotiations with Trump only work when he is pushed back against.

These Australian anxieties contrast with the Ukrainian perspective: in Kyiv and in the Ukrainian information space the US is still primarily perceived as the only real guarantor of the state's survival. Yet even here, at the start of 2026, there are important shifts in tone. Ukrainian and Russian‑language media are discussing a twenty‑point US peace plan that in January was discussed in Abu Dhabi by delegations from Kyiv, Moscow and Washington. After those talks, Volodymyr Zelensky said the parties had gone through all twenty points of the American proposal, stressing that Ukraine’s position remains unchanged and that any agreements should not mean capitulation or freezing the conflict at any cost, as reported by Tengrinews citing Ukrainian sources. An important detail: Kyiv emphasizes that this is a "US plan," not a joint document — and for several months Ukrainian society has been debating which concessions Washington might try to push through. In autumn 2025 a leak of a draft of this plan made noise in the Ukrainian segment of the web: MP Oleksiy Honcharenko published a 28‑point text, and American sources cited by the Russian outlet RBC claimed that Ukraine in the online version had altered an especially painful clause about auditing Western aid, replacing it with a formula of "full amnesty" for all participants in the conflict. In Ukraine that provoked an explosive reaction: for part of society any mention of amnesty for Russian soldiers and collaborators is a red line.

In January 2026 a new wave of commentary related to a draft of security guarantees for Ukraine from the US and a "coalition of the willing" surfaced in the information space and was detailed, among others, by the Russian outlet EADaily. The draft states that the US would help ensure a ceasefire using intelligence and logistics, and in the event of a new Russian attack — assist in restoring peace and impose additional sanctions. Ukrainian experts read this as a quasi‑NATO: not a formal "Article Five," but a promise that Washington will not leave the country alone with Moscow. Skeptics on Ukrainian talk shows and in independent media columns stress the conditional nature of such guarantees: they depend on the will of a particular US president, and therefore under Trump their weight could be very different from what Kyiv expected in the early months of the war.

A separate line of debate focuses on the likelihood of ending the conflict with active US mediation. US permanent representative to NATO Matthew Whitaker recently said that Ukraine and Russia "have come closer to a peace agreement than ever before" — his words were quoted by Ukrainian and Kazakh media such as Tengrinews. Russian and pro‑Russian outlets, like Gazeta.Ru, picked up another interpretation: in their retelling, based on Politico and Russian analysts, Trump leans toward making peace, and the probability of ending the conflict in 2026 is estimated as "four to one." For the Russian audience this is presented as a signal that the US is tired of paying for the war and ready to "pressure Kyiv," while for Ukrainians it is an alarming reminder that the country's fate is still largely decided not in Kyiv but in Washington and in closed forums like the UAE meeting.

Notably, in Ukraine, Australia and Brazil the same figure — Donald Trump — simultaneously embodies the US's power and unpredictability. But if for Ukraine Trump, despite all fears, remains someone who could bring a long‑awaited end to hostilities (albeit on contentious terms), for Australia he is above all a risk: a man under whom hundreds of billions of defense commitments have already been "stitched," and who could change the rules of the game overnight.

In Brazil the perception of the US is entirely different — more material and pragmatic. In recent months discussion of America there has been almost entirely focused on the trade and tariff war Trump unleashed against Brazil and much of the world. After Washington decided to raise tariffs on all Brazilian goods to 50% — a step framed as a response to a "national security threat to the US" — in São Paulo and Brasília this conflict is already called the largest bilateral crisis since the spy scandal of the early 2010s.

Brazilian analysts do not limit themselves to emotional assessments: economists at major investment houses are calculating the exact cost of "America First" for Brazil. In a note by the economic team at XP Investimentos, "Tarifas podem reduzir o crescimento do PIB do Brasil em 0,3 p.p. em 2025 e 0,5 p.p. em 2026," specialists estimate that imposing a 50% duty on Brazilian exports from August 1, 2025 could "eat away" 0.3 percentage points of GDP growth in 2025 and 0.5 points in 2026, while export volumes to the US would fall by $6.5 billion in the first year and by $16.5 billion in the following year. According to their calculations, high‑tech and capital‑intensive sectors — from aerospace to parts of manufacturing that find it hard to quickly reorient sales to other markets — would suffer most, while segments like meat could redirect exports to a greater extent, albeit with margin losses.

Against this background the tone of Brazilian media toward the US becomes truly harsh. Veja magazine published the full text of the Trump administration’s announcement about these tariffs under a headline that frames the conflict in explicitly political terms: the document says the measures aim to "counter an unusual and extraordinary threat to the national security of the United States posed by the policies and practices of the Brazilian government," and one reason explicitly named is the "prosecution and legal cases against former president Jair Bolsonaro and thousands of his supporters," described as "gross human rights violations." In Brazilian discourse this is perceived not as an economic dispute but as an open attempt by Washington to interfere in the internal struggle between the Lula and Bolsonaro camps. Left‑wing commentators call it "blackmail disguised as human rights," right‑wing voices call it "belated support for an oppressed right‑wing opposition," but the common note is outrage that a private conflict surrounding Bolsonaro has become a pretext for hitting an entire economy.

The economic consequences are visible in the markets. As Infomoney and other business outlets noted, after the announcement of "50% tariffs," yields on Brazilian futures for deposit contracts (DI contracts) rose sharply: for example, the DI rate for January 2028 updated its intraday high precisely amid news from Washington. Other pieces, such as XP’s analysis, link this not only to the direct hit to exports but to tightening financial conditions: investors price in slower growth, a weaker real, and higher debt burdens.

An interesting turn in the Brazilian debate is that local analysts use Trump’s US as a mirror to criticize their own development model. On the Instituto de Estudos para o Desenvolvimento Industrial site the logic of a Wall Street Journal piece is recounted, where Trump’s American protectionism is compared to Brazil’s long‑criticized experience of a closed economy: high barriers, a tangle of subsidies and exemptions, and the high cost of equipment and technology. The authors comment: if Trump carries his tariff policy to the end, the US risks repeating Brazil’s fate — chronic underinvestment in industry, technological lag, and expensive consumer goods. Thus America, which for years lectured Brazil, suddenly becomes for Brazilians a "cautionary example" — a country where political populism can destroy competitive advantages and lead to the very outcomes Brazil has been trying to escape.

Against this backdrop the perception of the US in Ukraine looks almost naively pragmatic: here what matters is not trade balances or even ideology but one question — will America bring peace, and if so, on what terms. Ukrainian commentators pay little attention to the internal logic of American politics, viewing it largely as a "black box." Far more attention is paid to how to use American initiatives to their advantage and not allow Washington and Moscow to strike a deal behind Kyiv’s back. Hence the keen interest in details of leaks of the US peace plan and in statements by American officials and analysts.

Russian and pro‑Russian media commenting on the same initiatives try to portray the US as a weakened hegemon trying to exit the war with minimal costs. Articles with loud headlines such as "US media think Ukraine may not survive another year of conflict" recapitulate Washington Post publications in an attempt to prove that American society is tired and that Congressional patience is not unlimited. For the Ukrainian audience such messages sound like a warning: reliance on the US is necessary, but it must not be allowed that Washington at some point decides the cost of support is too high and begins seeking "any peace."

Interestingly, the Ukrainian case best demonstrates how other countries are testing themselves against the US’s new foreign policy. In Australian debates about Trump and AUKUS the Ukrainian example is often invoked: proponents of a tight alliance remind that without US support Ukraine would be in an even worse position, and ask whether Australia would be left alone if it abandoned the American umbrella in a crisis. Critics respond that Ukraine’s example actually shows the ambiguity of American guarantees: when the administration changes, so do the style of support, rhetoric, and allowable compromises, so for Australia it is important to have a "Plan B" in the form of regional partnerships in Asia and greater strategic autonomy.

In Brazil, by contrast, Ukraine hardly figures in conversations about the US — unlike in Australia, the Brazilian focus is on its own conflict with Washington. In the Brazilian view Trump is less a geopolitical actor and more a president who uses America’s economic weight as a club in an ideological war. This is particularly noticeable in how media and experts link the tariffs to Bolsonaro’s fate. In a sense Brazil sees in America an exaggerated reflection of itself: a country where right‑wing populism and culture wars affect the economy the way they do in Brazil, only the scale of the consequences is global.

The Australian discussion, for its part, is distinguished by the depth of historical context. There the conversation about Trump’s America inevitably collides with unresolved questions about the British Empire and Australia’s own path: in columns timed to January 26 parallels between the old metropole in London and the new one in Washington are drawn almost explicitly. Journalist Paul Daley in his Guardian article nudges the reader toward the thought that "subordination to Trump’s America" is little different in essence from the previous subordination to the British crown: it’s not only about military bases and submarines but about the political elite’s willingness to tailor foreign and defense policy to the interests of a stronger ally.

As a result a curious map of perceptions of the US emerges. For Ukraine America is a necessary but dangerously strong mediator that can both provide security and impose a painful peace. For Brazil it is an aggressive trading partner ready to use the language of human rights and democracy to justify protectionism and pressure on an inconvenient government. For Australia it is an increasingly capricious patron to which the country is tied through enormous defense spending and who could at any moment turn that dependence into a tool of political pressure.

The common denominator in these different stories is one: the image of the US as "leader of the free world" is rapidly fading. In its place different, sometimes contradictory faces are appearing. In some sense the global conversation about the "new America" is only beginning. But it is already clear: to understand what international relations in the coming years will look like, it is not enough to read only the American press. Sentiments in Canberra, São Paulo and Kyiv are becoming as important indicators of the future world order as a column in The Washington Post or a presidential address to Congress.

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The world watches Washington: how China, Saudi Arabia and South Korea view US policy

At the end of January 2026, the image and policies of the United States again came into focus for major regional players — from Beijing to Riyadh and Seoul. But while debates in the American media revolve around domestic scandals, elections and economic indicators, the conversation outside the US is different. There, Washington is seen as a source of risk to regional stability, as a tough but unpredictable economic partner, and at the same time as an indispensable element of the security system. Chinese, Saudi and South Korean commentators agree on one thing: today’s America is a powerful but nervous force whose decisions are too often made in a “zero-sum” logic, with others left to pay the price.

The most emotional discussion concerns the new surge of tensions around Iran. Chinese outlets analyze in detail US plans to conduct multi-day exercises in the US Central Command area of responsibility, the redeployment of the aircraft carrier strike group Abraham Lincoln to the region, and reports that Washington is informing Israel about preparations for possible actions against Tehran. In a long piece in the Economic Daily News, republished on the Sina portal with a headline about “escalating tensions” and forthcoming US exercises in the Middle East, the emphasis is that the US is increasing not only aviation presence but also missile defense systems — Patriots and THAAD — which, for Chinese authors, is a familiar marker of preparations not so much for deterrence as for a potential strike. The publication says the “window of opportunity” for an operation, mentioned by American sources, is perceived in Beijing as an element of pressure and psychological warfare rather than a technical planning detail Economic Daily News via Sina.

One of the key scenes of this story for regional audiences was the phone call between the president of Iran and Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman. Chinese retellings emphasize that the Saudi leader called “any threats and rising tensions toward Iran unacceptable” and stated his readiness to cooperate with Iran and other countries in the region to build “sustainable peace and security.” Chinese commentators see more than diplomatic ritual in this wording: it looks like a demonstration that even a traditional US partner on the Arabian Peninsula is not prepared to automatically support Washington’s and Tel Aviv’s use of force against Tehran. At the same time, according to the same publications, the Iranian president directly accuses Israel and the US of interfering in domestic protests and speaks of the country’s “highest degree of combat readiness,” promising a “decisive response to any aggression” ibid.

Interestingly, in the Arab region itself the debate about the US around this story is two-layered. On one hand, official statements from Riyadh emphasize that the kingdom does not want a new conflict at its borders and rejects a policy of ramping up threats toward Iran. This reflects a strategic shift: after restoring diplomatic ties with Tehran and gradually exiting the war in Yemen, Saudi Arabia seeks to fix a new balance in which it is no longer Washington’s “frontline ally” against Iran, but a regional center of gravity preferring multilateral agreements and mediation. In this context even cautious criticism of the American line sounds like a signal: Saudi Arabia’s security is no longer identical to US strategy, and Washington will have to reckon with the autonomy of Saudi interests.

On the other hand, some Saudi and broader Arab commentary, especially in unofficial media and on regional platforms, points to the duplicity of the US approach: they argue Washington continues to use rhetoric about defending regional stability, but in practice it is American carrier strike groups and plans for strikes on Iran that create systemic risk for the entire Middle East. Older episodes are often recalled — from the invasion of Iraq to campaigns against ISIS — to show that any major US use of force results for the region in long periods of instability, refugees and economic shocks. A notable detail: in Chinese retellings of Middle Eastern assessments of the US, American policy is described with categories familiar to Chinese audiences — “zero-sum games” and “psychological warfare” — which allows the Middle Eastern agenda to be integrated into the broader Chinese narrative about the harm of unilateral forceful approaches.

No less indicative is the second major block of discussions — US trade and economic pressure on partners and the fear of “secondary” sanctions and tariffs. At a recent MFA briefing in Beijing, in response to a question from a French journalist about a statement by the US Treasury secretary threatening 100 percent tariffs on goods from Canada if it deepened trade cooperation with China, official spokesperson Guo Jiakun replied that Beijing advocates a “mutually beneficial, not zero-sum approach” and “cooperation instead of confrontation,” and stressed that the new strategic partnership between China and Canada “is not directed against a third party” and “serves the interests of both countries and contributes to peace and development worldwide” MFA briefing, January 26, 2026. Behind this careful diplomatic formula Chinese media build a much more straightforward line: the US uses trade barriers as a political cudgel not only against rivals but also against allies, while China, by contrast, offers “openness and mutual benefit.”

The picture is even sharper in Chinese economic and business outlets. Commentators on Xinlan and Xinhua-affiliated platforms recall in detail how tariffs announced by the Trump administration in 2025 triggered market crashes and forced Europe and Asia to seek workarounds. A recent review on Sina Finance emphasizes that the new large-scale trade agreement between India and the European Union, creating a free trade area for nearly two billion people, is explicitly tied by European and Indian officials to the need to “jointly respond to the uncertainty created by American tariff policy” Sina Finance review. For Chinese audiences this is an important argument: if even US partners in Europe and India seek to minimize dependence on Washington’s caprice, why should Beijing orient itself to American “rules”?

The Saudi and broader Middle Eastern discussion of US economic policy centers on another point — the fear of being “caught between the hammer and anvil” of sanction regimes. Against the backdrop of growing ties with China and Russia and participation in BRICS and Belt and Road projects, Saudi and Emirati commentators increasingly ask: where is the line of economic autonomy beyond which real pressure from Washington will begin? The experience of Iran and recent cases of pressure on Turkey over Russian arms deals are used as clear examples that the US is ready to apply economic levers to punish even important partners. Therefore, for business elites in the Persian Gulf, judging by comments in the Arab press, the key task is to diversify ties so that American sanctions become a less destructive instrument.

The third major theme complicating the picture for US allies in Asia and Europe is American domestic security policy and its export abroad. In the Chinese news feed one of the most cited analytical digests on January 28 recounts several episodes at once: killings of American citizens by federal immigration officers in Minnesota; the threat of new federal government shutdowns over disputes about funding the Department of Homeland Security; lawsuits against the Trump administration over military strikes on suspected drug-trafficking vessels in the Caribbean that led to dozens of deaths; and the controversy over plans for the US immigration agency’s participation in security for the 2026 Winter Olympics in Milan. The piece stresses that the mayor of Milan categorically rejected the idea of ICE presence, calling them “a militia shooting unarmed people,” and that Italian authorities demand clarifications from the US about the agency’s role in Europe international news roundup on Sina.

For Chinese, and subsequently Korean, commentators the important point is less the content of each case than the overall pattern: the US machinery responsible for migration and internal security is involved in tragic domestic incidents, controversial forceful operations abroad, and potentially conflict-prone missions in Europe. This reinforces a thesis popular outside the US that America tends to transfer its domestic “forceful” approaches to the international arena. South Korean commentators, especially in liberal media, have long criticized the “hard-hand” culture in the American law enforcement system, and now columns ask: can a state that struggles to control its own security forces still be considered a model of “rule of law” and possess the moral authority to teach others?

At the same time, Seoul’s attitude toward the US remains much more ambivalent than Beijing’s. Against the backdrop of uncertainty over the war in Ukraine, the ongoing confrontation on the Korean Peninsula, and North Korea’s growing nuclear capability, America remains the key security guarantor for South Korean policy. In South Korean analysis Washington is treated as a partner one must live with, even if its behavior is perceived as impulsive and sometimes dangerous. Commentators in major newspapers note that any weakening of American engagement in the region opens a window of opportunity for Beijing and Pyongyang, which for Seoul is worse than almost any scenario related to the White House’s unpredictability. Therefore South Korean criticism of the US often takes the form of “friendly warnings”: advising Washington not to damage its own reputation, not to push allies into China’s arms, and not to turn bilateral trade disputes into a threat to the overall military alliance.

Against this backdrop, the differences in how the three countries view the prospects of a “multipolar world” are particularly interesting. In China the debate about the US is embedded in a broader project: Beijing sees itself as the architect of an alternative global governance architecture — from BRICS to new transport and energy corridors. Here the US is portrayed as a force clinging stubbornly to a fading unipolar moment and responding to every attempt by other countries to build independent ties with threats of sanctions and tariffs. In Saudi Arabia the attitude is more pragmatic: many local experts openly say the kingdom wants to extract maximum benefit from great-power competition, maintaining close ties with Washington, Beijing and Moscow, but no longer wishes to be a “junior partner” automatically supporting any US line. South Korea views the discussion of multipolarity cautiously: in Korean texts multipolarity is often associated not with greater freedom of maneuver but with increased uncertainty and risks for a small but highly developed country whose exports and security depend on a stable global system.

As a result, the general external view of the US that emerges from Chinese, Saudi and South Korean assessments is much more critical and anxious than the typical American domestic discourse. In Beijing the emphasis is on accusations of economic coercion and undermining multilateral rules; in Riyadh — fears that Washington’s use-of-force logic will drag the region into a new conflict with Iran; in Seoul — worry about an unpredictable ally without whom deterring the DPRK and maintaining the balance of power in East Asia would nevertheless be impossible. Each of the three countries, in its own way, is trying to adapt to an America that is no longer perceived as the “natural leader” of the international order. And it may be this — not specific statements or tweets from Washington, but the slowly changing perception of the US as an ordinary, bounded great power — that turns out to be the most significant shift in how America is viewed beyond its borders.

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How the World Argues with America: South Africa, Russia and South Korea on the New US Foreign...

Today discussions about the United States in different parts of the world are no longer limited to the familiar talks of the "leader of the free world." In South Africa, Russia and South Korea, the US is simultaneously perceived as an indispensable partner, a source of threats, an economic opportunity and a factor in domestic politics. Donald Trump's return to the White House, Washington's sharp moves in trade and aid to developing countries, and the continuing confrontation with Russia and Iran create an entirely new backdrop for these debates. At the same time, each of the three countries quarrels with America primarily from the standpoint of its own vulnerabilities and ambitions.

The most obvious node of tension is Washington’s new policy toward sub‑Saharan Africa, above all South Africa. A sharp cut in aid, pressure over domestic land legislation and high tariffs have turned the US in South Africa from a familiar, almost "technical" donor and trading partner into an openly politicized factor. A column on News24 with the blunt headline “Trump has stopped aid to South Africa, endangering thousands of lives” describes how a presidential order to stop aid to South Africa effectively "froze" hundreds of millions of dollars through PEPFAR — the US program to combat HIV and tuberculosis — on which services for extremely vulnerable groups and thousands of jobs in local NGOs and clinics depend. The author emphasizes that those who will suffer most are people who have virtually no influence over South African laws or Pretoria’s foreign policy, but who are entirely dependent on continuous funding of American health projects like the Ivan Toms Centre for Health and Wits RHI initiatives, which under uncertainty have already suspended some services. In this view the US appears not as an abstract "West" but as a very concrete bureaucratic mechanism whose single decision is immediately reflected in South African clinics and their patients.

At the same time South African newspapers and the political elite are discussing the trade agenda: the fate of the AGOA agreement and the new American tariffs. Mail & Guardian, in its analysis “South Africa‑US trade faces uncertain future as Agoa renewal stalls,” reminds readers that South Africa accounts for 54% of all AGOA exports to the US, about 71.5 billion rand a year and tens of thousands of jobs in the automotive, agricultural and textile sectors. Against this backdrop, Washington’s 30 percent tariff on a range of South African goods is viewed as a direct blow to growth: the cabinet estimates losses of about 0.4% of GDP and up to 30,000 jobs. Trade Minister Parks Tau told the same outlet that the government is deliberately avoiding reciprocal measures and is proposing a "rewritten" package of agreements, seeking to prove that South African exports do not threaten American industry and that the two countries’ relations are "complementary." For the business community this is not a dispute about abstract principles but about the survival of export clusters, especially in the auto industry and agriculture.

The US House of Representatives’ decision to renew AGOA for another three years, covered in detail by Mail & Guardian in the piece “United States renews Agoa for another three years,” is perceived ambivalently in Pretoria. On the one hand, it signals that amid growing rivalry with China Washington is not ready to abandon tools of economic influence in Africa. On the other hand, it is unclear whether South Africa will retain beneficiary status: political differences with the Trump administration rise to the fore, from the land reform dispute to South Africa’s position on Israel. In South African commentary the US appears as a power that once invented the rules of the global trading system and now demonstratively breaks them. For example, in a legal column in Mail & Guardian, “Trump’s tariffs are illegal under international trade law,” the author asserts that the new tariffs go beyond international trade law, eroding the foundations of the WTO; by this logic South Africa should not only defend its economic interests but publicly accuse Washington of undermining the rule of law that America itself built.

At the political level South African leadership is trying to combine tough rhetoric with pragmatism. President Cyril Ramaphosa in interviews and public speeches makes it clear that Pretoria is not satisfied with being in the role of the "accused" before Washington. Speaking at a Goldman Sachs event, he emphasized: “We don’t want to go and explain ourselves to the US, we want to reach a meaningful deal” — that is, to move relations from a logic of justification to one of mutually beneficial deals. News24 in the piece “Ramaphosa: We don't want to 'explain ourselves' to the US, we want 'a meaningful deal'” links this to an internal demand for dignity and an external policy stance aimed at preventing America from turning South Africa into an "example to punish" among Global South states.

At the same time Ramaphosa appeals to domestic unity: in his presidential newsletter, cited by News24 in “South Africans must 'not allow events beyond our shores to divide us',” he urges people not to allow "events beyond our shores" to divide South African society. Although the US is not named directly in the text, the context is clear: it’s about a protracted series of attacks by the Trump administration — from criticism of the land expropriation law to threats to cut HIV/AIDS support. In response, part of the South African establishment is using antagonism with the US as an occasion for new rhetoric of "African renaissance." Thus, influential ANC official Fikile Mbalula, speaking from the podium of the youth league congress, urged that "Donald Trump must not isolate us from the African continent," insisting that African countries should trade with one another and become strong enough so that the United States "cannot steamroll us." His remarks, quoted by News24, capture the emotional tone: America here is not only a partner but a symbol of neocolonial pressure that must be "fought by the whole continent."

It is interesting that in Russian media the South African‑American conflict is used as part of a broader narrative demonstrating the "erosion" of American influence. Russian outlets in Russian, such as RBC, detail Trump’s boycott of the G20 summit in Johannesburg, when the president announced that "no representative" of the US would go to South Africa because he considered holding the summit there "a real disgrace" due to alleged discrimination against Afrikaners and violations of white population rights. This storyline is presented as an example of how internal ideological wars in the US and the personal convictions of the president distort global governance: Russian pieces emphasize that it was South Africa that filed a case at the International Court of Justice against Israel and received in 2024 a decision to halt the operation in Rafah — and according to Russian commentators, Washington responds with economic and diplomatic pressure.

If in South Africa America is primarily money, medicine and markets that suddenly become instruments of political coercion, in Russia the US remains primarily a military and strategic opponent. However, the tone of the discussion has shifted noticeably. In recent analytical publications Russian experts discuss the new US National Defense Strategy not in an alarmist key but with almost cynical calm. The newspaper Vzglyad, in a piece on reactions to this strategy, quotes well‑known political scientists Fyodor Lukyanov and Stanislav Tkachenko, who say that against the backdrop of the protracted conflict over Ukraine and the upcoming three‑way Russia–US–Ukraine talks in Abu Dhabi, what matters to Moscow is not so much territorial formulations as a system of security guarantees. In this discourse the US is not simply an "enemy" but an inevitable interlocutor on the architecture of European security, with whom deals will have to be made, whatever documents and administrations in Washington may change.

At the same time another Vzglyad article with a characteristic headline about the "end of the era of nuclear restraints" asserts that both in Russia and in the US there is a growing recognition that the era of bilateral arms control treaties like the INF Treaty or New START is ending. Russian authors interpret the White House’s new line as an acknowledgment that Washington cannot simultaneously contain Russia and China under the old models, and therefore the US will allegedly be forced to accept a multipolar nuclear reality. In this context they cite Pentagon analysis retold by EADaily: “the Pentagon has the most accurate analytics: Russia retains a powerful potential.” For Russian commentators this is almost a compliment from an adversary, confirming the resilience of Russia’s military balance with the US and undermining the image of a unipolar America able to dictate terms.

Statements by American experts that diverge from Washington’s official line also draw special attention in Russia. For example, EADaily relays an interview with former CIA analyst Larry Johnson on the popular American YouTube channel Judge Napolitano – Judging Freedom. Johnson claims that Russia "takes a clear and consistent position" on the "new regions" and that the belonging of these territories is "closed to discussion," meaning the US will have to accept the reality sooner or later. Russian media use this as evidence that even within the American expert community there is a growing understanding of the limits of American pressure.

A separate layer of the Russian discussion about the US is linked to the Middle East and Iran. Russian commentators see recent American strikes on Iranian infrastructure and nuclear facilities as a step that could radically change not only the regional balance but also Washington’s relations with the Global South. Here Russia finds itself in a similar position to South Africa: a News24 report on the world’s reaction to US strikes on Iran highlights President Ramaphosa’s position, calling for a "peaceful resolution" to the conflict. The South African presidency statement emphasizes that the country had hoped Trump "would use his influence to encourage parties to dialogue," not escalation, and calls on the US, Israel and Iran to give the UN space for negotiations and inspections of Iran’s nuclear program. In this regard South Africa and Russia converge somewhat: in both, America is seen as a power prone to unilateral use of military force for aims that do not seem clearly defensive or transparent to the outside world.

The same set of American actions is perceived quite differently in South Korea. In the Korean press the US remains primarily a security guarantor against growing military cooperation between Russia and North Korea and the long war of Russia against Ukraine. At the end of 2025, in the column “오늘의 시선” in Segye Ilbo, an author reflecting on how they would like to see 2026 for the Republic of Korea describes the world as a space of continuous turbulence: the fourth year of the Russia–Ukraine war continues, the Middle East "boils" because of the Israel–Palestine conflict, and tensions around Taiwan are rising between China, the US and Japan. Against this backdrop the author emphasizes the changing role of US forces in Korea: a transformation of the contingent’s functions on the peninsula is expected in connection with growing Sino‑American confrontation and Pyongyang’s military successes, which, taking advantage of involvement in the European conflict, accelerated development of strategic weapons, including missiles and nuclear submarines.

For Korean commentators the US is part of an equation that simultaneously creates external risks and internal dilemmas. On one hand, the American security guarantee is seen as key to deterring not only North Korea but also China, which no longer hides its claims on Taiwan and regional sea lanes. On the other hand, increasing confrontation between Washington and Beijing threatens Korea’s economy, which critically depends both on the Chinese market and on access to American technologies and investments. Therefore in Korean columns the US is often described not in moral terms of "good/bad" but as a "structural fact" to which the country must adapt.

A notable feature of Korean discussions is the constant parallels drawn with Taiwan. American statements about defending democracy on the island, increases in arms supplies and military presence in the region are seen as a testing ground for Washington’s future line on the Korean Peninsula. At the same time, in South Korean columns aimed at a broad audience there is skepticism: journalists question how stable and predictable American guarantees are in conditions of radical polarization of US politics and potential course changes with each new administration. Thus, where South Africans see an unpredictable donor and Russians see a tired but still dangerous adversary, Koreans talk about the US as an unstable but for now indispensable "umbrella" over their peninsula.

The common motif that unites these three very different national conversations is the loss of illusions about the stability and unambiguity of the American role. In South Africa there is serious discussion about the need to "diversify" foreign economic ties and build denser African trade networks so as not to depend on the decision of a single president in Washington. "Africa must stop being other people’s beggar," insists Mbalula, urging youth to defend African trade agreements and build continental power so the United States cannot "easily bend" Africa. In Russia political scientists like Lukyanov no longer talk about how the US "destroyed" the balance but about how the US itself is forced to recognize the limits of its hegemony and look for new rules of the game, including possible compromises on Ukraine and nuclear restraints.

In South Korea intellectuals increasingly discuss how to preserve maneuverability between Washington and Beijing without losing either military guarantees or export markets, and how feasible it is for a country embedded in the American alliance system to build a more autonomous regional strategy. Here American policy is perceived as an external condition to be skillfully used but not one to which the country should tie its entire long‑term fate.

Against this backdrop, dissenting voices within the American environment, carefully picked up by foreign media, look particularly interesting. For South African audiences it matters that there are US lawyers and activists who see Trump’s tariff policy as a violation of international law and a subversion of the WTO; Mail & Guardian authors stress that it was the US that once was the chief architect of this legal order and thus Washington bears special responsibility. Russian readers learn via sites like EADaily about ex‑CIA analysts urging recognition of Russian "new regions" and about Pentagon reports reluctantly acknowledging the resilience of Russia’s military potential. For Koreans the private opinions of American strategists on China and North Korea are more important, analyzed through the lens of how long the US can sustain confrontation on multiple fronts.

All these storylines, from the halt of PEPFAR in South Africa to three‑party talks in Abu Dhabi and disputes over AGOA’s future, hardly appear in the American mainstream as a single picture. But from South Africa, Russia and South Korea a mosaic emerges: America no longer looks like a monolithic "pole"; it is a set of contradictory practices and decisions that are recalibrated for each country anew. For South Africans the key question is how to turn asymmetric donor–recipient relations into a partnership without sacrificing sovereignty. For Russians — how to use American fatigue and strategic confusion to entrench a new status quo. For South Koreans — how to remain under the American "umbrella" without being dragged into a major war for which they are unprepared.

As a result, the international conversation about the US becomes more fragmented but also more mature. Less idealization, fewer disappointed hopes for "normalization," and more pragmatic calculations and attempts to incorporate the American factor into national development strategies. And if anywhere there remains faith in America as a source of simple answers, it is certainly not in the three countries that today watch each new Washington decision closely and critically.

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Europe Argues with Trump’s America: How Australia, Israel and Germany See the U.S

At the start of 2026, newspapers and opinion columns around the world unexpectedly converge on one object — the United States under Donald Trump in a second term. In Australia the debate is whether a long alliance with Washington has become a form of “subordination to a new empire”; in Israel commentators discuss how the benefits of an unprecedentedly pro‑Republican administration combine with the growing unpredictability of American power; in Germany every statement about NATO, Greenland and tariffs is heard nervously as officials try to determine whether the foundations of European security are crumbling. Three interlinked themes come to the fore: a new unipolar style of American power embodied in tariffs and the blackmailing of allies; Trump’s attempt to build his own architecture of global governance through the “Board of Peace”; and the fate of the transatlantic alliance, which may be transforming or quietly being dismantled.

Seen from Australia, the U.S. today is above all a problem of trust in an ally that remains vital but increasingly repellent. Lowy Institute polls and those from other centers record record‑low levels of trust in America as a responsible global power, even while support for the alliance itself remains high. ABC News highlights that only about a third of Australians are willing to trust the U.S. to act “responsibly,” yet roughly 80% still consider the alliance with Washington important for national security. (abc.net.au) 9News frames this paradox even more starkly: Trump is “bad news” for Australians, but “they are not ready to turn their backs on the U.S.,” even as a growing share sees America more as a source of instability in Asia than a guarantor of order. (9news.com.au) This divided mindset is felt strongly in opinion pages: Australia fears both losing and keeping the America it now sees.

One flashpoint was Trump’s recent remark that allies in Afghanistan, including Australia, supposedly “hung back a bit from the frontline.” Australian veterans took this not as an eccentric aside but as a direct insult to the memory of the fallen. RSL president Peter Tinley called the comment “unfathomable” and insulting to the families of 47 Australian service members who died in Afghanistan; veteran MP Andrew Hastie described it as a “colossal insult” and a leadership failure, demanding an apology and warning that such rhetoric corrodes the trust that underpins alliance arrangements including AUKUS. (theguardian.com) These voices are especially telling: people whose biographies are bound up with joint operations with the U.S. are now questioning not the need for the alliance but the reliability of American political leadership.

At the same time, Australia’s public debate increasingly features the theme of “imperial dependency” on Washington. In a vivid column in The Guardian timed for January 26, columnist Paul Daley draws a parallel between old British imperial guardianship and the current strategic dependence on Trump’s America. He argues that while the country tells itself stories of “self‑reliance and tolerance,” the reality is that it is “sinking ever deeper” into a risky tie to Washington, chiefly through a multibillion‑dollar submarine deal under AUKUS. Daley notes that in the face of Trump’s erosion of international norms, Canberra has offered surprisingly little open criticism of the White House, unlike, for example, Canadian premier Mark Carney’s speech in Davos urging “middle powers” to band together against economic coercion by great powers. (theguardian.com)

A second major irritation for Canberra is the appearance of Donald Trump’s “Board of Peace”: formally an international body for conflict resolution, in practice a structure fully centered on the American president. Australia got an invitation, but prime minister Anthony Albanese, according to Australian media reports, “hopes it will go away on its own” and does not hide his lack of enthusiasm. In a News.com.au piece government sources describe the initiative as costly and politically toxic, undermining existing multilateral mechanisms, and advise carefully “talking it down” until it fades. Former ambassador to the U.S. Arthur Sinodinos recommends a “quiet diplomatic rebuff” to avoid getting drawn into a project that could erode sovereignty and divert resources away from Australia’s Indo‑Pacific priorities. (news.com.au)

The Israeli debate about the U.S. in early 2026 is colored by a complex mix of dependency and anxiety. On one hand, no other country benefits as much from the current administration as Israel does: from a hard line on Iran to support for Israeli positions in Gaza, where the American initiative on the Board of Peace won a UN Security Council mandate to manage postwar reconstruction. The Wikipedia article on the Board of Peace notes that resolution 2803 effectively handed the structure authority to administer and rebuild Gaza, including deploying a temporary peacekeeping contingent — roles traditionally played by the UN. (en.wikipedia.org) For conservative Israeli commentators this looks like a welcome move away from the “ineffective” UN toward a more pro‑Israeli mechanism.

But because of the same asymmetry of power, Israeli media also express growing unease about new American “hyperactivity.” In the Zman Israel newsletter of January 13 the “Trump dilemma” on Iran is described: a nighttime call for Americans to leave the country immediately and the threat of 25% tariffs on any country that continues doing business with Tehran are presented as a sharp hardening of policy that could destabilize the region — including for Israel. The author asks: if “many dangerous events” already occurred in Iran last year, why is Washington raising the temperature now? (zman.co.il) In another edition titled “The American Pressure Cooker,” the same outlet describes how behind the outward chaos of Trump’s speeches lies a deliberate strategy: the U.S. is “flexing all its muscles — military, diplomatic and economic — to force the world to comply with its demands,” from Greenland to NATO. (zman.co.il)

Israeli commentators thus see Trump’s America as both protector and source of grave dilemmas. On the one hand, the expansion of the Board of Peace, which even Vladimir Putin agreed to join, gives Trump an unrivaled channel of influence over Gaza’s future; on the other, it makes the very architecture of settlement dependent on the unpredictable political and personal decisions of the White House. International observers note critics view the structure as an attempt to create an alternative to the UN Security Council, where the only real veto power rests with Trump himself. (nypost.com) For Israel, this means that even in critical areas like postwar governance of Gaza, customary international rules give way to a personalized American policy.

Israeli attention also follows U.S. domestic socio‑economic dynamics. A long analysis on Ynet describes how the cancellation of an extension of Obamacare subsidies led to a sharp rise in insurance premiums at the start of 2026 and made “affordability” a central word of American politics — a theme Democrats are building their midterm campaigns around. The author recalls that 2025 was the worst year in the U.S. labor market since 2003 (excluding recession years) and notes that two‑thirds of Americans disapprove of Trump’s economic management, while the real beneficiaries of tax policy are the richest layers. (ynet.co.il) For Israeli readers these details matter less in themselves than as indicators of domestic political risks in their patron state: how stable is the president whose decisions shape Gaza, Iran and regional security.

If the Israeli conversation is dominated by the Middle East dimension, Germany and Europe more broadly view the U.S. through the lenses of NATO, trade and the new “Greenland” crisis arc. German newspapers and radio shows discuss the possibility that America is de facto ceasing to be a reliable guarantor of European security. In a podcast cited on Antenne Bayern, security expert Claudia Major puts it bluntly: “NATO without the U.S. is in trouble, because we are so dependent on America,” in political leadership, conventional armaments and nuclear deterrence; in all three fields, she says, a U.S. exit “would leave a breach Europeans could not quickly close.” (antenne.de)

Commentary in German‑language media increasingly accompanies each new Trump statement on NATO with alarming scenarios. Frankfurter Rundschau, in a column titled “Trump rules Europe — Merz and Rutte fight over the remnants of NATO,” describes a meeting between NATO secretary general Mark Rutte and chancellor Friedrich Merz as a struggle for the “remnants of the alliance” under pressure from two sides: from the west — because of Trump’s threats to leave NATO, and from the east — because of Russian threats. (fr.de) Journalists emphasize that Washington is no longer merely demanding the 2% defense target be met but is issuing ultimatums about a radical redistribution of burden by 2027; the discussion of a “NATO without the U.S.” is moving from hypothetical to serious analysis.

Against this backdrop the “Greenland crisis” and the related trade war take on special sharpness. American sources describe how at the World Economic Forum in Davos on January 21 Trump declared Greenland “U.S. territory,” demanded “immediate talks” about buying it and promised to “remember” European refusal, not ruling out economic coercion. (en.wikipedia.org) Debugliesintel’s analysis frames this course as part of a thought‑out Arctic strategy: pressuring Denmark and demanding “permanent sovereign oversight” of rare earth deposits in Greenland, up to threats of 25% tariffs on Denmark’s key pharmaceutical exports. (debugliesintel.com) In the German and Belgian press this line is seen as an attempt by the U.S. to “flex all its muscles” — military to trade — to impose its will not only on adversaries but on allies as well.

Unsurprisingly, a comment in Belgium’s GrenzEcho cited in BRF’s “Presseschau” states: “Trump acts not strategically but narcissistically. He is not looking for solutions, but for subjugation.” The paper urges: “Europe can no longer afford to be blackmailed” and reminds readers that the EU is a major trading partner for the U.S., so Brussels has levers: “Enough — enough,” repeats another Belgian tabloid with heat, calling on the EU to “show Trump his limits.” (brf.be)

A concentrated expression of European irritation is reaction to the idea of a “Board of Peace.” German Wikipedia directly states that the Friedensrat is an intergovernmental body personally and for life led by Trump, declared to promote peace and stable governance in conflict zones starting with Gaza. (de.wikipedia.org) German‑language and Australian columnists, however, see it primarily as an instrument of a parallel power architecture where the U.S. not only dominates but gains a monopoly on decisions. The Australian column mentioned above stresses that participation in such a “board” for middle powers like Australia would amount to tacitly accepting Washington’s right to rewrite international rules. (theguardian.com)

Characteristically, as analyses in The Guardian and The Washington Post note, most established democracies are conspicuously standing aside from the Board of Peace. According to the Washington Post, the “board of peace,” conceived as a tool for settlement in Gaza, quickly became a “Trump‑centric” club with minimal accountability and an eye‑watering $1 billion entrance fee, creating the impression of a private fund outside Congress’s control. (washingtonpost.com) Australian and German commentators emphasize that the first participants are mainly authoritarian regimes and a handful of allies personally aligned with Trump, while France, Germany and other Europeans, as well as Australia, are clearly distancing themselves. A paradox emerges: the country that built the postwar order on multilateralism and institutions is now building an extra‑system, personalist body, and it is the allies who see this as a threat.

In this context Canada’s voice in Davos becomes a kind of marker for a possible path for other middle powers. In a widely cited speech by prime minister Mark Carney, “Principled and Pragmatic: Canada’s Path,” American policies of territorial expansion and trade wars — including around Greenland — are described as a “rupture, not a transition,” in the world system. Carney calls on mid‑sized countries to band together to resist the weaponization of integration, tariffs, infrastructure and supply chains. (en.wikipedia.org) Australian treasurer Jim Chalmers called the speech “stunning” and said it is actively discussed within government; former prime minister Malcolm Turnbull directly urged Canberra to take a similarly tough stance toward Washington. (theguardian.com) In Europe, judging by press surveys, many editorial desks are already dreaming of a similar “middle powers’ manifesto” on behalf of the EU.

The common nerve running through Australian, Israeli and German discussions is the realization that the United States in Trump’s second term increasingly looks less like a predictable “pillar of order” and more like a superpower openly testing the limits of acceptable behavior — even with its allies. Australia painfully balances between the need for a U.S. nuclear and military umbrella and a growing critical view of subordination to Washington; Israel simultaneously enjoys White House favor and worries that its fate‑defining issues — from Gaza to Iran — are too bound up with the will of a single person; Germany and Europe as a whole are trying to grasp a reality in which the slogan “America First” can at any moment turn not just into reduced commitments but into direct economic and political coercion.

For readers accustomed to the American perspective, the most unusual element in these foreign debates is not criticism of Trump per se but the much deeper doubt about the resilience of American institutions and their ability to restrain individual ambitions. An Israeli column on the “year of Trump” writes that, unlike the first term when the president did not fully understand what he wanted to achieve, in the second term he has come convinced that the previous mandate was “stolen” from him and that “from now on everything will be by his word.” (zman.co.il) Similar notes appear in Australian and German commentary: the problem is not only the personality of the current occupant of the White House but that the American system seems to have learned to live with this style of rule.

That is why interest is growing in all three countries in ideas of “strategic autonomy” and “coalitions of middle powers.” For Australia this means strengthening regional self‑reliance and rethinking AUKUS; for Germany and Europe — accelerating the build‑up of defense capabilities and preparing for a “NATO minus the U.S.” scenario; for Israel — the painful question of whether and to what extent to diversify its foreign policy supports without losing the American shield. But in all these conversations there is also an element of gratitude: it is precisely the shock of Washington’s current course that is prompting many countries to reconsider what international order they want to see — and what price they are willing to pay for it, even if that means arguing not only with adversaries but with their own increasingly unpredictable America.

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How the World Sees Trump's America: Venezuela, Greenland and a New Doctrine of Force

At the beginning of 2026, the image of the United States in the foreign press and among expert communities is shaped around three closely connected storylines: a lightning intervention in Venezuela and the removal of Nicolás Maduro, an escalation of the struggle over Greenland and threats of a tariff war with Europe, and Washington's proclaimed updated strategy of "Monroeism 2.0" — expanding American control from the Arctic to the Caribbean. Fears, hopes and irritation of US allies and opponents converge along these three lines. Australia, Japan and Russia speak about the same phenomenon, but in very different voices: for some it is the return of a "tough but predictable" hegemon, for others — a demonstration of dangerous disregard for law and alliance obligations.

The first and sharpest nerve of the global discussion is the US military operation in Venezuela on January 3, during which Washington struck Caracas, transported Maduro and his spouse to New York, and announced it would "govern" the country until a transitional authority is formed. In Australia, Canberra's official reaction was diplomatically restrained: Prime Minister Anthony Albanese limited himself to calling for "support for dialogue and diplomacy," avoiding both direct support and harsh condemnation of Washington, as is clear from roundups of international reactions to the intervention. Australian commentators, discussing the new US National Defense Strategy, emphasize that Washington's key priority now is deterring China and protecting the "golden hemisphere" from Greenland to the Panama Canal, and that the Venezuelan episode fits precisely into this logic of projecting power in the Western Hemisphere. In The Australian's piece on the new defense strategy, it is said that the so‑called "Trump Corollary to the Monroe Doctrine" cements the US right to "not cede influence over key territories in the Western Hemisphere" and to use force against "drug terrorists and authoritarian regimes" from Greenland to the Caribbean, including reconfiguring Venezuela's oil industry to American interests. Thus, for Australian hawks the strikes on Caracas are not an anomaly but the first major case of an updated American expansionist doctrine.

The Japanese discussion is more complex: there is both fear of normalization of US "policing" military operations in Latin America and an understanding that Japan's security still critically relies on the American umbrella. Left‑liberal and solidarity organizations, such as the Japan‑Asia‑Africa‑Latin America Solidarity Committee, issued a sharp declaration calling the intervention "a crude act of aggression" that violates Venezuela's sovereignty and urging international support for the people of the country "fighting for their independence against imperial aggression"; the statement claims that the US for months conducted illegal military actions in the Caribbean, destroying ships under the pretext of fighting drug trafficking and killing more than a hundred people, and has now "flagrantly trampled the UN Charter and international law." This position was reinforced by a statement from the lawyers' association Free Bar Association of Japan, which in a separate document on January 13 called on the Japanese government to demand that the US comply with international law and refrain from "forcible alteration of the status quo"; the lawyers quote Article 2(4) of the UN Charter in detail and stress that the unilateral strike on Caracas and forcible removal of the head of state do not fall under self‑defense or Security Council authorization. On the more moderate flank, coalition partner Komeito—through its newspaper—stated that "the US military attack on Venezuela is a unilateral change of the situation by force, which undermines the foundations of the international order and must be decisively condemned," recalling that in Japanese foreign policy rhetoric since Crimea the formula "the forcible change of the status quo is unacceptable" has taken root. Meanwhile, the cabinet of Takaichi Sanae, discussed in a broad analytical essay by constitutional historian Kurayama Mitsuru in Nikkan SPA!, perceives US actions not in isolation but as part of a broader strategy against China: the author emphasizes that for Washington "priority number one is to contain the rise of China," and episodes in Latin America and the Middle East are only part of a broader pressure campaign on whose outcome Japanese security critically depends.

The Russian perspective is predictably different: the intervention in Venezuela is seen as another confirmation of the long‑standing narrative about the "imperial nature" of the United States and its habit of acting without legal justification. Reviews in Gazeta.Ru and other outlets analyze Operation "Absolute Resolve" in detail — the night strikes on Caracas, the subsequent removal of Maduro and his spouse, the charges brought against them in the US for "drug terrorism" and illegal arms trafficking, and the split in international reactions. Russian authors emphasize that although some European leaders, like Emmanuel Macron, welcomed the "end of the Maduro regime" as an opportunity for Venezuelans, many later had to "soften their tone" and acknowledge that they do not approve of the US method of action. In a Russian summary of a Die Welt article published on EADaily, it is stressed that Washington no longer even attempts in the Security Council to "support its accusations with convincing evidence, as was done before the Iraq war" — the drug trafficking argument is used as a universal key to forceful actions. Russian official and semi‑official sources see in this picture confirmation that the rules‑based international order is finally hollowed out and that the real architecture of the world will be defined by only three powers — the US, Russia and China.

The second major knot of international disputes around the US is Washington's rapid turn to aggressive "Monroeism" in the Arctic and North Atlantic, primarily an attempt to forcibly impose control over Greenland. It is on this storyline that the divergence between Australian, Japanese and Russian perspectives is particularly visible. In Australia, whose media traditionally watch the balance of power in the Indo‑Pacific closely, discussion of the Greenland issue is viewed through the prism of the new American defense strategy. In an extensive analysis The Australian emphasizes that the document released by the Trump administration builds a hierarchy of threats that pushes Europe to the background while concentrating resources on containing China and strengthening US control over "key territories in the Western Hemisphere" — including Greenland and the Panama Isthmus. The article's author notes that the strategy contains a direct promise that the US "will no longer cede access or influence over key territories in the Western Hemisphere" and is prepared to secure this with the "speed, power and precision" of its armed forces. In another piece in the same publication about Trump's Davos speech, his statement is quoted that Greenland is "vital to US security," that America "must own it, not lease it," and that Vice President J. D. Vance and Secretary of State Marco Rubio have been authorized to negotiate with the Danish government. The US president demonstratively calls Denmark "ungrateful" and links the Greenland question to threats of tariffs against European countries that sent troops to the island for joint exercises.

For a Japanese audience the Greenland crisis is primarily interesting as a symptom of the plaster falling off the facade of the transatlantic alliance on which Japan's security is tied. Analytical columns addressing the new US strategic document emphasize that the US is openly shifting the burden of its own defense onto Europeans, concentrating on China and the first island chain in the Pacific. As Japanese commentators note, Washington is prepared to blackmail even close NATO allies with tariffs if they dare defend the sovereignty of Danish territory. For Tokyo this is a double signal: on the one hand, the alliance with the US remains indispensable in confronting China and North Korea; on the other — one cannot exclude that in case of disagreements over Taiwan or the South China Sea Washington might apply similar economic pressure to Japan as it is applying to Europe over Greenland today. Therefore Japanese analysts increasingly speak about the need for "dynamic autonomy" — strengthening Japan's own defense capabilities without breaking with the US, to preserve room for maneuver within the American orbit.

In Russia, American claims to Greenland are perceived in connection with the broader thesis of a "new US imperialism." Russian media readily quote European leaders warning of a "dangerous spiral" if the US imposes tariffs over the Arctic island, and point out that even staunch Atlanticists are forced to speak the language of sovereignty and territorial integrity not only regarding Ukraine but also toward Washington. In retellings of Western publications, the irritation of European governments at Trump's aggressive tone, his public reproaches of NATO, and his ostentatious demand that Greenland ultimately end up under the American flag are emphasized. Against this background pro‑Russian commentators draw a parallel: if forcible or economic coercion is permissible for the sake of a "strategically important territory" in the Arctic, how does this fundamentally differ from the Russian line on Crimea or Donbas? Placing Greenland in a broader picture, Russian analysts argue that the world is entering an era of "frank imperial projects" by three powers — the US, Russia and China — and that the UN has been definitively sidelined, as was argued in descriptions of the Venezuelan case.

The third common thread linking the three countries' discussions of the US is an updated American foreign‑policy doctrine in general: withdrawal from a number of UN structures, demonstrative disregard for multilateral forums, and reliance on direct force and bilateral deals. The English‑language and Australian press discuss in detail Trump's January memorandum to begin withdrawing the US from several dozen international organizations and UN agreements, including the UNFCCC climate system, as a continuation of the line to reject "tied hands" in favor of sovereign freedom of action. The Australian, analyzing the National Defense Strategy, emphasizes that the administration openly speaks of a "world through strength," sees Russia as a "manageable but persistent threat," and regards Europe as a theater where allies must shoulder the main burden of defense, allowing Washington to focus on China and the Western Hemisphere. This is presented as a sober recalculation of priorities: reducing "free security" for allies and increasing pressure on regional adversaries.

In Japan this line is perceived ambivalently. On the one hand, conservative commentators like Kurayama in Nikkan SPA! view Trump as a politician with a "clear set of priorities" who "does what he promises" — in this case pressing China, demanding increased military spending from allies, and responding harshly to challenges in Latin America and the Middle East. For them the main worry is not Washington's aggressiveness but the risk that US attention will be dispersed across China, Iran, Venezuela and the European theater, leaving Japan exposed to a growing threat from the PRC and the DPRK. Hence calls to accelerate reform of Japanese defense policy, take on a greater share of the "dirty work" in the region, and not count on America to "fight for everyone" indefinitely. On the other hand, the legal and left community sees in unilateral US actions, including withdrawals from multilateral institutions and the Venezuela operation, a troubling precedent for global law. The Free Bar Association's statement highlights precisely this aspect: if even the key architect of the postwar international legal order acts as a "rule‑breaking superpower," reliance on the UN Charter and the principles of non‑intervention becomes politically vulnerable.

In Russia the image of the US as a power beyond any norms is reinforced by events in the Islamic world and Iran — local press actively cites US State Department statements regarding Iranian protests and Senate warnings to Iran along the lines of "if you continue to kill your people, President Trump will kill you," which fits into a narrative of "cowboy foreign policy." Combined with the Venezuelan operation and the course toward withdrawal from a number of UN structures, this is used to strengthen the domestic audience's conviction that the West has no moral right to demand that Russia observe norms that it itself casually violates. At the same time, some Russian experts writing in liberal or business outlets, analyzing the same Venezuelan intervention, acknowledge that many Latin American and European states supported Maduro's overthrow or greeted it with relief — and this, in their view, shows that the anti‑American consensus is far from universal, and the world is rather entering a phase of "cynical pragmatism" where states are ready to turn a blind eye to violations if it serves their interests.

Against this backdrop, an interesting nuance in Australian and Japanese debates emerges: both countries objectively depend on American security, both are deeply integrated into the US alliance system, but in January 2026 both increasingly ask how to coexist with an America that, on the one hand, remains a "necessary hegemon" against China, and on the other — is less and less attentive to multilateral frameworks and partner opinion. In Australia this is expressed in debates about the extent to which Canberra should automatically back US initiatives like the "Trump Corollary to the Monroe Doctrine" and possible further operations in Latin America; in Japan — in a tense balancing act between the official G7 line condemning "forcible alteration of the status quo" and a pragmatic recognition that without American power it will be extremely difficult to contain China.

The result is a paradoxical picture: in Australia, Japan and Russia three seemingly contradictory intuitions are strengthening simultaneously. First — without the US, however its current authorities behave, no regional security system will endure: this is acknowledged in Canberra and Tokyo, and in Moscow — indirectly, when people say that the world will be run by "the US, Russia and China." Second — today's Trump America demonstratively casts off some of the norms and institutions on which it once built the postwar order, thereby undermining its own moral legitimacy, a point felt especially acutely in Japan's legal community and Russian rhetoric. And third — despite sharp statements and condemnations, most countries ultimately adapt to this new reality, adjusting their strategies to a tougher, more unilateral, but still indispensable global actor. It is at this intersection — the Venezuelan operation, the struggle over Greenland, and the new American doctrine of force — that these questions meet: for Australia it is about how to live in the shadow of "Monroeism 2.0" in the Indo‑Pacific; for Japan — how to both rely on the US and protect the remnants of the legal order; for Russia — how to use American "neo‑imperialism" as justification for its own moves while simultaneously building pragmatic backstage deals with Washington.

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How Trump Is Changing Attitudes Toward the US

The restoration of American influence in the Middle East, a new architecture of a “Trump‑style peace,” and Washington’s attempt to become again an indispensable mediator in conflicts from Gaza to Ukraine — all of this is shaping how the world talks about the United States today. In Saudi Arabia, Germany and Turkey the discussion is less about the mere fact of America’s return to major diplomatic play and more about the price of that return, the mechanism of its implementation and the consequences for their own interests. A running theme is the figure of Donald Trump and his team: attitudes toward the US effectively merge with attitudes toward a specific, highly personalized US foreign policy.

One of the central storylines resonating across several countries is the US’s new Middle East strategy and the peace plan for Gaza. Arab media view this line through a lens of suspicion: any “peacebuilding” under an American umbrella risks cementing a status quo favorable to Israel and permanently freezing the Palestinian issue. Russian outlet RBC, relaying the sentiments of Arab diplomats about the American idea of a “New Gaza” — a reconstruction zone on territory controlled by Israel — cites an unnamed representative of one Arab country: “It would look catastrophic. It would look as if we are building for Israel, not for the Palestinians”; according to him, no Arab state is ready to invest money in such a format. RBC, quoting the Financial Times, notes that the fear in the region is that this amounts to a long‑term partition of Palestinian territory into a “safe” zone under Israeli control and a zone where Hamas and the majority of the population remain — and that the US, by its reconstruction plan and the architecture of a “Council of Peace” in Gaza, effectively legitimizes that split. That is why Saudi Arabia, the UAE and Qatar, the paper reports, are extremely cautious and tie the funding promised by Trump for Gaza to political conditions — from full disarmament of Hamas to guarantees from Israel — as well as to their own budgetary constraints amid falling oil revenues. In this debate the US position is seen as both necessary and deeply suspicious: without American pressure the peace plan won’t work, but it is precisely Washington, in the view of many Arab analysts, that seeks to turn postwar Gaza into a demilitarized buffer in Israel’s interests.

Germany, viewing the same American activism, focuses primarily on the question of US reliability and predictability as guarantor of future peace regimes. At a government press conference on January 7 a Berlin spokesman, answering a journalist’s question, did not publicly undermine trust in Washington but had to strike a balance: the journalist directly questioned the “price” of American promises, recalling Trump’s idea to ban Russia and China from resource extraction in Greenland and other sharp statements; the spokesman acknowledged that without “strong” US guarantees the pressure necessary to implement the political process is unimaginable, and stressed that it was Washington’s willingness to deploy a “cascade of political, military and economic measures” that brought negotiations to the current stage. At the same time he had to explain why the US did not sign the “coalition of the willing” document, although it had in effect “accompanied the process” and was “symbolically present” at the Paris meeting where guarantees were discussed. A familiar European narrative comes through in the German view: Washington, on the one hand, remains indispensable as a military and political center of gravity; on the other hand — it increasingly fails to correspond to the classic image of a multilateral, treaty‑accompanying leader and prefers the role of an external architect who does not sign the format but sets the framework of its content.

The Turkish discussion about the US today particularly reveals the economic underpinning of American policy in the Middle East. In a column by economic commentator Bekir Tamer Gökalp in the Turkish newspaper Dünya under the headline “What Does America Want to Do in the Middle East? Economic Reality Behind the Politics,” the author shows how the region is seen through price screens rather than geopolitical maps: swings in oil prices, rising freight and insurance costs, worsening inflation expectations and deferred hopes of rate cuts. Gökalp emphasizes that the US no longer depends on Middle Eastern oil as it once did, but the region has not become less strategic for that reason: Washington, in his view, is trying not so much to “control resources” as to shield the global economic order from shocks, managing risks across the strategic corridor from the Suez Canal to the Persian Gulf. For Turkey, whose economy is sensitive to energy prices and maritime logistics, this logic is especially important: any American action — from sanctions to military maneuvers — is assessed in terms of its impact on Turkish inflation, the lira and Turkey’s ability to pursue an independent regional policy. At the same time the Turkish analyst, unlike many Arab commentators, somewhat demystifies the US: its actions, he argues, are less ideologically and militarily motivated than commonly believed and more aimed at stabilizing global demand and financing conditions, albeit with an obvious priority for its own interests.

Another major theme shared by Saudi Arabia, Germany and Turkey is the US attempt to become the main moderator of a postwar security architecture in Europe and around Ukraine, using Saudi Arabia as the venue. Russian outlet RBC gives detailed coverage of the upcoming March 11 talks in Jeddah between US and Ukrainian delegations, where the US is expected to confirm willingness for a ceasefire, and Kyiv, according to the paper, proposes a “partial ceasefire” — a cessation of fire in the air and at sea. For the first time after the public spat between Trump and Zelensky in the Oval Office, the Saudi venue becomes the place where Washington and Kyiv try to synchronize positions; the paper notes that the US has paused shipments of arms and intelligence to Ukraine, and doubts about the fate of deals over Ukrainian resources underline how dependent Kyiv is on the current American administration. That the talks are held in Jeddah is especially significant for Saudi audiences: the kingdom presents itself as a new nodal mediator where both sides of the conflict, including the US, are willing to speak under the “umbrella” of Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman. Russian and Middle Eastern commentators see in this both a rise in Saudi Arabia’s weight and an indication of a new US style — shifting key negotiations to friendly but non‑Western capitals where Washington can operate more freely than, say, in Brussels.

In the German and broader European discussion Ukraine and Russia are also present, but the emphases differ: for Berlin it is important that the US not make behind‑the‑scenes deals without regard for European interests. At the aforementioned press conference the government spokesman stressed that it is precisely American willingness to “guarantee” and participate in a peace mission that makes the process possible, while at the same time blurring the usual logic of multilateral agreements in which the US is an equal signatory. The unsigned but “supported” agreement backed by Washington — the “coalition of the willing” — is a convenient pretext for doubts about the durability of American commitments among some German commentators, although Berlin does not officially articulate this. From the perspective of the German elite, the US remains a necessary military and political anchor, but the historical experience of Trump‑1 and the current personalization of decisions around the president force them to discuss diversifying guarantees, with the EU and NATO trying to strengthen their roles as formal bearers of obligations while the US acts as the de facto guarantor under its own brand.

Against this background Saudi Arabia is building a more pragmatic, sometimes transactional, line toward the US. It is characteristic that discussion of the American role in the region among Saudi audiences is closely entwined with the domestic Vision 2030 agenda and major projects tied to the kingdom’s image for Western investors. Thus the decision for WWE to hold Royal Rumble 2026 in Riyadh is interpreted not only as part of sporting “soft power” but also as an element of a long‑term decade‑long contract supporting a modernization strategy in which the US supplies content, symbols and spectacles while Saudi Arabia provides the venue and investment. At the same time the Financial Times writes about a large‑scale revision of the Neom megaproject: according to the paper, Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, after years of delays and cost overruns, agreed to a significant “downsizing” of plans, including for the flagship linear city The Line, and to reorient parts of the project toward data centers and infrastructure for AI development. Against this backdrop American technological and financial partners, including major IT companies and funds, are seen in Saudi Arabia both as sources of know‑how and as instruments of pressure: Washington, local and regional commentators stress, can not only provide access to technologies but also block it, and the scale of Vision 2030’s ambitions makes the kingdom vulnerable to potential American sanctions or regulatory decisions.

The German view of these same economic aspects of relations with the US is far more institutionalized: Berlin openly acknowledges that Washington’s proposals on sanctions, export controls and energy policy force Germany to balance dependence on American security with the desire to preserve autonomy in economic ties. In the discussion around the future EU–Mercosur agreement, mentioned at the same government press conference, the shadow of American trade policy is palpable: fears that abrupt unilateral actions by the White House — from Trump’s threatened “penalty tariffs” on France over its stance on his “Council of Peace” to potential tariffs on European goods — could undermine the economic foundation of the transatlantic partnership are regularly voiced in German business and analytical circles. Thus the question of “American reliability” is not only about Ukraine or the Middle East but also about the future of the entire export model of the German economy.

A special place in the current discussion of the US is occupied by Donald Trump’s initiative to create a “Council of Peace” or “Friedensrat,” which the German newspaper Die Welt covers in detail. In this construct the American president himself would head an informal global body that countries could join by paying a billion dollars for a perpetual membership or a smaller sum for a three‑year participation. Some countries, from Egypt to Argentina and a number of Arab states, have publicly welcomed the invitation; others, including France, Norway and Sweden, refuse, and Germany, Die Welt emphasizes, is “so far cautious” and is studying the consequences. For Berlin and much of the European elite the problem is not only the price of entry but the principle: a global peace institution built on a subscription, essentially pay‑to‑play model under the personal leadership of the US president is seen as undermining the very logic of multilateralism. In the Arab world, where some states have already declared readiness to participate, the reaction is more pragmatic: if this format can secure access to American influence and resources, the question of price and procedural anomalies recedes. Against this background France’s refusal and Trump’s threat to retaliate with tariffs on French goods create a troubling precedent for Germany and the rest of Europe — the American president openly uses trade instruments to punish allies for disagreeing with his “world architecture.” Turkish commentators see in this story further confirmation that Washington, in the Trump era, builds foreign policy as a web of deals in which moral and institutional frameworks are secondary to personal and financial arrangements.

The Turkish perspective lends the US discussion a more cynical and at the same time pragmatic tone. Unlike many European debates that note a “crisis of liberal leadership” in America, Turkish analysts more often talk about how to use American fears, economic interests and domestic political cycles to advance their regional ambitions — from Syria to the Eastern Mediterranean. In the aforementioned column in Dünya the risk for Ankara is seen not only in potential sanctions or dollar fluctuations but also in the fact that an excessive US presence as a “global firefighter” in the region devalues the role of middle powers, to which Turkey clearly aspires. Therefore for a Turkish audience the question is not whether the US is “good or bad” but how to minimize its ability to set the rules of the game without entering into direct conflict and without losing access to Western markets and technologies.

On the Middle East track, especially in Saudi Arabia, attitudes toward the US are now determined by a dual logic: on the one hand, Washington remains a key security guarantor — from the Iranian factor to sea lines of communication in the Red Sea; on the other hand the kingdom is increasingly building independent coalitions and projects that do not imply automatic subordination to the American agenda. The growing rivalry between Saudi Arabia and the UAE over Yemen, analyzed in detail by the Washington Post, shows how much the regional scene has changed: Saudi Arabia, relying on Yemen’s legitimate government, opposes UAE‑backed southern separatists, while at the same time building ties with Egypt and Somalia and limiting the use of its airspace for flights related to UAE operations. The US figures in this dispute more as external context — their past experience in Yemen, their role in securing Red Sea shipping, their current reluctance to intervene in a conflict between two key allies. For Saudi commentators this is an additional argument that Washington can no longer and does not want to “hold an umbrella” over all regional conflicts; for Turkey it confirms that the balance of power in the Gulf and the Red Sea is increasingly determined by local coalition configurations rather than formal American guarantees.

Bringing together the reactions of the three countries, several key themes emerge where views of the US coincide and diverge. First, there is everywhere an awareness of Washington’s indispensability: neither in the Middle East, nor in Europe, nor in the Black Sea region can a new security configuration be built without American involvement, even if it takes unusual, personalized forms. Second, skepticism about the durability and predictability of American commitments is growing in all three capitals: in Berlin — through the prism of unsigned agreements and threats of trade wars; in Riyadh — through experiences with Gaza, Ukraine and megaprojects dependent on Western investment; in Ankara — through the volatility of American moves in Syria and around sanction policy. Third, there is a noticeable shift in perspective everywhere: the US is increasingly perceived not as the abstract “leader of the democratic West” but as a large, concrete center of power with whom deals are made, bargains struck, competition engaged in and occasional resistance mounted.

Finally, the main thing that unites these three different debates is the understanding that a “post‑American” world has not arrived, as many predicted in the mid‑2010s, but a world “after unconditional US leadership” has. Saudi Arabia, Germany and Turkey are each finding ways to deal with Washington in this reality: some through cautious institutional distancing, some through pragmatic participation in new formats like the “Council of Peace,” and some through economic adaptation to turbulence caused by American decisions. And behind debates about individual plans — from the “New Gaza” to peace missions and trade agreements — stands the same question: what will the world look like in which the US remains very powerful but is no longer able — and not inclined — to be for everyone the sole and final authority.

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How the US Looks from Seoul, Riyadh and Moscow

At the end of January 2026, the United States again finds itself at the center of attention in foreign columns and political talk shows, but the perspectives on Washington from Seoul, Riyadh and Moscow diverge noticeably. For South Korea, the US remains an indispensable but increasingly demanding ally in security and high‑technology economics. For Saudi Arabia, America is a partner with whom a complex bargain is being struck over formal security guarantees, access to weaponry and room to pursue an independent Middle Eastern policy. For Russia, the US remains the main geopolitical adversary, but Russian public attitudes toward America are slowly drifting from hostility toward wary indifference, as local sociologists record.(khaberni.com)

What unites these three countries is different: in each of them the US has long ceased to be an abstract “leader of the free world” and is viewed primarily through the prism of their own interests — security, energy, sanctions, technology. The harm or benefit of American policy is measured very pragmatically, and that pragmatic outlook is what comes through in recent local commentary.

The central recurring theme of the past weeks remains the American line on the war in Ukraine and the broader confrontation with Russia. In Russia, official media and part of the expert community continue to interpret Washington’s policy as an attempt to “isolate” the country and inflict a strategic defeat, but analytical pieces increasingly emphasize the idea that sanctions have only pushed Moscow to reorient toward China, Iran, the DPRK and other states that do not follow the Western agenda. One Russian business outlet notes that, according to US intelligence assessments, whatever the outcome of the conflict, Russia will remain a resilient military and political power and a “permanent threat to US global interests,” and that rising defense spending and development of the defense industry will offset many losses.(rbc.ru)

Russian commentators deftly use these US assessments as proof that the pressure strategy has failed. One expert close to official circles told a major news portal with irony: if even American intelligence admits that Russia will remain a factor in world politics, “then talk of its ‘isolation’ long ago became a propaganda slogan for the domestic consumer in the US.” At the same time, a recent Politico review, as relayed by Russian media, says that Washington, conversely, is seeking “by way of real de‑escalation” in Ukraine a chance to revive at least minimal trust between Russia and Europe. Russian commentators read this two ways: on the one hand, as an indirect admission of the impasse of coercive pressure; on the other, as an attempt by the US to restore transatlantic unity under its umbrella, unity that was weakened in the energy crisis and disputes over frozen Russian assets.(rbc.ru)

Interestingly, against the backdrop of harsh official rhetoric, public sentiment in Russia looks more flexible. A survey by the Public Opinion Foundation shows that the share of Russians who view the US favorably rose from 10% in 2015 to 18%, while those with a definitively negative attitude fell, giving way to a large layer of the indifferent. Russian political scientists explain this by “fatigue with the conflict” and gradual habituation to the new reality: “America has ceased to be an existential enemy and has turned into another major power with which we have a prolonged dispute,” one expert formulates in a comment for RBC.(rbc.ru)

The US is seen very differently in Saudi Arabia, where the American role is assessed through three lenses: regime security, large deals and pressure on human rights. In the Arab media space, reports of talks between Riyadh and Washington on a new bilateral defense agreement sparked a wave of commentary. As Jordanian portal Khaberni relays, citing a detailed Financial Times piece, the move is about Saudi Arabia’s desire to lock in US security guarantees on paper amid regional turbulence and the emergence of competing power players. The authors note that Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman seeks to “legalize” the American nuclear and military umbrella while preserving freedom of maneuver in relations with China and Russia.(khaberni.com)

At the same time, Saudi and neighboring Gulf outlets enthusiastically covered the signing in May 2025 of a package of “historic” US–Saudi agreements worth about $300 billion, and the Crown Prince even spoke of plans to raise total deal volumes to a trillion. A report in the Bahraini newspaper al‑Ayyam highlights that current contracts are seen as a continuation of an almost century‑long history of energy and military partnership that began with an oil concession granted to an American company in 1933. Donald Trump, in that same article, is presented as a leader for whom “the region’s future begins in Riyadh” and who promised to lift some sanctions on Syria, tying this to a new architecture of Middle Eastern security.(alayam.com)

But this picture of mutual benefit has another side that human rights organizations and some Arab commentators consistently highlight. In a joint statement by several NGOs published by Human Rights Watch ahead of the Saudi crown prince’s visit to Washington, they call on the US administration to “use the leverage” of Riyadh’s interest in a formal defense deal to compel Saudi authorities to take concrete steps on human rights. The statement lists activists, human rights defenders and bloggers who, according to the rights groups, are either imprisoned or restricted in their freedom of movement despite the formal end of bans.(hrw.org)

On the pages of some Middle Eastern newspapers this becomes a broader debate about whether American human‑rights policy changes when such sums and a vital defense architecture are at stake. One Saudi commentator notes in a column that “Washington has always been able to look the other way on inconvenient questions when it came to oil, weapons and a base in the Persian Gulf”; another fears that a new defense deal will create a “structural dependency” of the kingdom on the US and lead to increased pressure on domestic politics. In any case, for Riyadh America is neither a moral standard nor a “global policeman,” but a major supplier of security and technology with whom one must bargain toughly while diversifying external ties in parallel.

The South Korean discourse on the US in recent weeks largely centers on the classic question: how reliable are American security guarantees amid a changing global configuration. Seoul publications closely track American signals on Ukraine and Europe, comparing them with the situation on the Korean Peninsula and in the Taiwan Strait. Analytical pieces voice concern: if Washington increasingly talks about the need for “real de‑escalation” in Ukraine and restoring trust between Russia and Europe, might that become a template for East Asia too, where Washington would have to seek compromises with China and the DPRK. Korean experts remind readers that for Seoul American presence means not only troops but also the “nuclear umbrella,” and any shift in US strategic priorities is perceived as a potential risk.

At the same time, the South Korean press pays attention to the technological dimension of relations with the US: control over semiconductor supply chains, export restrictions to China, joint projects in AI and defense technologies. For Seoul, American sanctions and export controls are both an opportunity and a threat. An opportunity in the form of redirecting supply chains toward Korean companies; a threat in the risk of losing the huge Chinese market. One tech commentator in a Seoul paper puts it this way: “America wants us to bolster its technological hegemony, but at the same time expects us to bear some of the economic losses from breaking with China. This is a politically sensitive balance.”

Curiously, it is in the South Korean context that American domestic politics — polarization, elections, debates about the role of the state — occupies a relatively noticeable place. Korean commentators, looking back at their own experience of rapid democratization and elite turnover, analyze American pre‑election campaigns almost like a mirror reflecting their own fears about the influence of social networks, fakes and foreign interference. Russia appears here in another role — as a source of precedents for information operations, which Western and Asian researchers write about. This creates an interesting triangle: Russia trying to influence American society; the US trying to contain Russia with sanctions; and South Korea carefully studying both experiences to protect its own political system.

Putting these three outlooks together produces an image of the US as a power around which there is less romance and more pragmatic calculation. In Moscow, America is still the main opponent, but no longer demonized to the utmost degree; in Riyadh, it is a necessary but conditional supplier of security and investment; in Seoul, it is a guarantor against the North Korean threat and a key technological partner whose internal shifts are watched as if they were tectonic tremors beneath one’s own soil. In none of these societies is the US simply perceived as the “center of the world”; it is one of the most powerful players whose influence must be taken into account, not blindly accepted or rejected.

That is why local debates about Washington increasingly boil down to the same question: how to build relations with the US in a way that maximizes one’s own autonomy. Russia bets on creating alternative coalitions and trying to “devalue” Western sanctions. Saudi Arabia balances between the American umbrella and expanding ties with China and other Asian powers, using defense deals as leverage both in negotiations over regional conflicts and in dialogue about human rights. South Korea seeks to strengthen the alliance with the US while gaining greater autonomy in defense and technology so as not to become a hostage to American domestic crises or a change of administration one day.

For an American reader there is an important takeaway: the world in which the US is automatically perceived as the “natural leader” and moral arbiter increasingly does not match how the country is seen from Seoul, Riyadh and Moscow. There America is above all a factor of risk and a resource of opportunity, an object of cynical calculation and bargaining. Understanding this down‑to‑earth, sometimes unpleasant truth may be the first step toward a more realistic foreign policy that takes into account not only its own declarations but also how they refract in other people’s mirrors.

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How the World Sees America in the Era of a Second Trump: Views from Riyadh, Canberra and Moscow

At the start of 2026, the United States is again at the center of global debates — but not as an abstract “superpower,” rather as a country whose concrete actions affect the security, economy and political identity of other states. Donald Trump’s second presidency, the announced course to withdraw from dozens of international organizations, a forceful operation against Nicolás Maduro in Venezuela, and a hard line on Iran and the Middle East have forced many capitals to reassess their assumptions about Washington. Saudi Arabia, Australia and Russia react to the same U.S. decisions but see different things in them — from a historic window of opportunity to a threat to the global order.

For the Saudi elite, today’s America is simultaneously the main guarantor of regional balance and a partner with whom tough bargaining is necessary. In Australia the U.S. is still described as a “necessary but increasingly unpredictable anchor” of the Indo‑Pacific security architecture; editorial pieces more often draw a line between an American turn to unilateralism and the risks this poses to AUKUS and the joint containment of China. In the Russian information space a completely different angle dominates: the U.S. is portrayed as a country that has returned to overt imperialism, “breaking” UN institutions, the norm of sovereignty and the familiar collective security system.(ru.wikipedia.org)

The most heated reaction in all three countries was provoked by the January decision of the Trump administration to begin an immediate withdrawal of the U.S. from dozens of international organizations, including the UN climate structure and a number of specialized agencies. In Russia this event is interpreted as a logical continuation of the “Trump–Vance doctrine,” which, according to the Russian section “U.S. Foreign Policy,” is characterized as a course toward imperialism and expansionism.(ru.wikipedia.org) Commentators in Kommersant and on television emphasize that leaving 66 organizations — from UNESCO to UN population and climate funds — shows that Washington is no longer willing to play by common rules and instead seeks to impose its conditions twice over, relying on military and financial power. In a piece summarizing Chatham House’s assessment, it is stressed that U.S. abandonment of multilateral diplomacy deprives even its allies of predictability and pushes the world toward a set of “hard blocs” instead of universal norms.(ru.wikipedia.org)

The tone in the Saudi press is different: the U.S. withdrawal from climate and humanitarian structures is viewed more as a tactical maneuver than as a final break with multilateralism. On Arabic platforms close to the authorities, emphasis is placed on Saudi Arabia’s ability to strengthen its own presence in the UN and specialized agencies by taking advantage of the resulting influence vacuum, while maintaining a strategic alliance with Washington in defense and high technology. For Riyadh, this is an opportunity to act not as the “junior partner of the U.S.” but as a self-sufficient pole that can, in climate negotiations for example, balance American hardness and the demands of developing countries. This more pragmatic approach relies on a long-established cultural and educational foundation: many Saudi ministers are graduates of American universities, and local analysts often remind readers that “America’s withdrawal from institutions does not mean America’s withdrawal from the region.”(ru.wikipedia.org)

The Australian perspective, reflected in analytical columns in ABC and major newspapers, is far more anxious. There it is emphasized that for middle powers that cannot set global rules alone, the erosion of U.S. multilateral structures is a blow to the very foundations of their security and foreign policy. Australian internationalists link the American move at the UN to a long‑term trend in Washington: from the climate deal to the WTO, the U.S. has shown a preference for bilateral bargaining and tariff threats over slow but common procedures. This is directly tied to the development of AUKUS: the more unilateral and “edgy” the U.S. appears in other areas, the more intense the internal debate in Australia about whether the alliance makes Canberra excessively dependent on Washington’s political fluctuations.

A second shared nerve is the administration’s shift from “proxy wars” to demonstrative pinpoint operations, above all the capture of Nicolás Maduro on January 3, 2026. The Russian reaction to this operation is sharply negative and principled: analytical pieces citing Chatham House stress that this is not simply a change of government in one country but an undermining of a basic principle of international law — sovereignty. Russian commentators, from pro‑state to moderately opposition outlets, agree that the precedent of U.S. “extraterritorial justice” makes any government deemed “undesirable” by Washington vulnerable. Hence the direct parallels with Cold War–era operations and the thesis that today’s America “has returned to the policy of gunboats.”(ru.wikipedia.org)

In the Saudi discussion about Venezuela and Maduro there is almost no emotional condemnation: the topic is presented through the prism of lessons for regional policy. Commentators in pan‑Arab outlets oriented toward the Gulf note that the operation in Venezuela demonstrates U.S. readiness to move to direct action when it believes red lines have been crossed — whether that’s threats to its citizens, energy flows or allies. Experts discuss where such “red lines” lie in the Middle East and how to avoid crossing them. It is noted, however, that the level of U.S. coordination with several Latin American governments and Venezuelan opposition groups is very different from the situation in the Arab world, and Riyadh is unlikely to allow a scenario in which Washington would act as independently in its immediate neighborhood.

Australian analysts view the Maduro case through the lens of regional stability in the Pacific. Expert commentary draws parallels between the Venezuelan operation and hypothetical scenarios around disputed territories or authoritarian regimes in Asia. For Canberra the main question is less the legitimacy of the forceful action and more its consequences: if the U.S. begins to normalize pinpoint operations to “export justice,” this could push China and other major players to mirror such steps in their own “zones of interest.” Such “legalized arbitrariness by great powers” is seen as something Australia has historically tried to restrain through international law, not encourage.

A third common theme across all three countries is the U.S. hard line on Iran and the wider Middle Eastern security knot. In the Russian information space the familiar image is used to describe the current American course on Iran and its nuclear program: the U.S. as a force playing on the brink of a major war to preserve dominance in the region. Reports and analysis stress that U.S. special envoy Steve Witkoff at the Israeli‑American Council conference set out four tough demands for Tehran: restrictions on enrichment, reductions in missile arsenals, elimination of existing stocks of enriched uranium and an end to support for proxy forces.(anna-news.info) For Russian commentators this confirms that Washington seeks not compromise but Iranian capitulation: any negotiations are viewed as a cover for pressure.

The Saudi picture is more complex and internally contradictory. On one hand, the U.S. hard line on Iran is perceived as a long‑awaited confirmation that Washington is prepared to address the threats Riyadh sees coming from Tehran, from missiles to Yemeni Houthis. In Arab columns drawing on leaks from Washington meetings, Witkoff and the Trump team are presented as more “decisive” compared with the Biden administration, which was inclined to return to the nuclear deal framework. On the other hand, caution is growing: Saudi analysts emphasize that escalation around Iran under a “deal of the century” logic in Washington might not account for the long‑term interests of regional states. The experience of previous decades is recalled, when the U.S. war in Iraq and sanctions on Iran shifted balances of power but did not always favor stability.

For Australia the Iran dossier is interesting not for its own sake but as an indicator of how willing the U.S. is to divert resources from the Indo‑Pacific. Analysts note that every new Middle Eastern flare‑up that Washington becomes involved in, even indirectly, reduces its ability to concentrate on containing China, which has been proclaimed a strategic priority. Experts are already asking: if the U.S. is tied up in confrontation with Iran and managing the fallout from the Venezuela operation, will it have the political will and military resources for a major crisis in the Taiwan Strait?

Finally, a separate strand of reaction concerns U.S. attempts to expand its influence in the Arctic and around Greenland, which in the Russian discourse is described as an attempt to “redraw the map of the North Atlantic” and create a new sphere of American control. Russian reviews recall that the American administration even considered forceful scenarios, although Secretary of State Marco Rubio publicly emphasized the priority of diplomacy and the possibility of purchasing territory from Denmark. European exercises “Arctic Endurance” and Washington’s threat to impose 10 percent, and then 25 percent, tariffs on imports from participating countries starting February 1, 2026, are interpreted as “trade coercion” to force acceptance of American terms.(ru.wikipedia.org) Against this background the thesis grows in Moscow that the U.S. is turning the Arctic into yet another theater of pressure on both rivals and allies.

Australian authors view the Arctic episode through the prism of international maritime law: if the United States openly uses tariffs and the threat of revising allied agreements to advance territorial interests, this raises the question of how it will behave in the southern Pacific when disputes around maritime boundaries intensify. At the same time Australian analysts acknowledge that they themselves depend on American guarantees of freedom of navigation and therefore must navigate between criticizing Washington’s methods and understanding their strategic logic.

Against this backdrop the Saudi assessment looks surprisingly pragmatic. In Riyadh the Arctic story is seen primarily as a signal about how the Trump administration thinks about negotiations: an initial maximal demand, tough rhetoric and a demonstrative threat of sanctions, followed by a rollback to a more “reasonable” compromise, as happened when Trump announced in Davos on January 21 that a military option regarding Greenland was not being considered and a basis for agreement with the NATO secretary‑general had been reached.(ru.wikipedia.org) Saudi commentators draw direct parallels with past bargaining over OPEC+ production quotas and with the reconfiguration of relations between Washington and the kingdom under Biden, when tough public rhetoric in the end combined with carefully managed behind‑the‑scenes dialogue.

Across all three countries another common thread is skepticism about the long‑term sustainability of the current American course. Russian analysts, relying on Western sources, note that even among the U.S.’s traditional allies — in Europe, in expert centers like Chatham House — there is a growing sense that Washington “breaks the rules faster than it can propose new ones.”(ru.wikipedia.org) In Australia this motif is voiced more gently but is no less worrying: editorial articles express the thought that allies are less confident than ever that U.S. domestic political cycles will not undo long‑standing defense and economic arrangements. In Saudi Arabia, where the elite traditionally adapts to changes in Washington administrations, the theme of “diversification” — from diplomatic contacts with China to trying to play a more active role in OPEC and the Islamic world independently of American priorities — is heard more and more.

What in Washington is often presented as “restoring American strength” and “returning to deals in the U.S. interest” looks much more contradictory outside the country. In Riyadh this is seen as both a window of opportunity and a risk, with efforts to use the American hard line to strengthen Saudi regional agency. In Canberra it is a source of strategic uncertainty forcing a reassessment of basic assumptions about the durability of American leadership. In Moscow it confirms a long‑constructed narrative of the U.S. as a power breaking the old order and thereby accelerating the formation of alternative centers of power.

One thing is common to all three capitals: America still sets the agenda, but less and less often the rules of the game. It is precisely this divergence between power and normative legitimacy that today attracts the main attention and criticism outside the United States, even from those who still rely on American support for their own security.

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America of Force: US Operation in Venezuela and Trump's Global Impact

At the start of 2026, what is called the "American question" unexpectedly narrowed in France, South Korea and Australia to a single episode that became the nerve center of several debates: a lightning-fast US operation to seize Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and fly him to New York. Adding to this are the lingering shadow of the Iranian protests and the role of Donald Trump, as well as broader reflections on how the international order changes if Washington increasingly places "force and interest" above rules. From afar this may look like another peripheral crisis, but in Paris, Seoul and Canberra it is seen as a test: how far are the United States willing to go — and what does that mean specifically for them.

A central theme running through editorials and columns in the three countries is the legitimacy of American "justice without borders." Another is the return of raw "politics of force" and the question of who can and will stop it. A third is a very practical fear: might the Venezuelan precedent become a model for other great powers, and might an American ally become the next arena for such a force experiment.

In South Korea the problem is formulated exactly that way. In an editorial in Seoul Shinmun titled "'Force for Interest' openly exposed in the overthrow of Maduro," the authors write that the swift detention of the Venezuelan leader showed how accelerated the era has become in which the international order is determined not by law but by naked power, and they directly link this to the need to "seek the best option to protect the national interests of the Republic of Korea between the US and China." In the phrase 힘과 국익의 시대 — "the era of force and national interest" — both skepticism and recognition of reality are audible. The paper simultaneously reminds readers of the real crimes of the Venezuelan regime and of the International Criminal Court investigation into Maduro, but it draws a clear red line: even a dictator, the editors write, cannot be overthrown "whenever one wants" based on a superpower's conveniences, otherwise China and Russia will tomorrow invoke the same arguments regarding Taiwan or Ukraine. (seoul.co.kr)

French publications, more cautious in their wording but no less sharp in substance, have also seized on the legal and political precedent. In the French debate the key refrain is "atteinte à la souveraineté" and "violation du droit international" — violation of sovereignty and international law. Analyses cited by the Korean press note that the French government condemned the operation as inconsistent with principles of international law, while not entertaining illusions about the nature of the regime in Caracas. In one South Korean roundup Seoul Shinmun emphasizes: "France believes the US violated principles based on international law," thus showing that even a traditional ally is not prepared to quietly accept the logic of an American "arrest operation." (seoul.co.kr)

This duality of the French view is especially noticeable in comparison: while Chinese and Russian diplomats at the UN Security Council meeting spoke of an "imperialist invasion" and a "blatant trampling of international law," Paris and London, according to the South Korean Chosun Ilbo, tried to reconcile "humanitarian intervention" with criticism of the operation's legal form. In a piece aptly titled "The US kidnapped Maduro in six hours... next — Kim Jong Un?" the author notes that France and the UK at an emergency Security Council session characterized US actions as a "humanitarian-motivated intervention," whereas Moscow and Beijing spoke of a "breach of international law" and a "colonial attack." (mk.co.kr) This is very French: acknowledging that the Maduro case can fit into human rights rhetoric, Paris nonetheless insists that the final arbiter should not be the American administration but collective mechanisms — whether the UN or international courts.

In Australia the reaction is much more divided, which is clearly visible in the public broadcaster ABC. In a column by international editor Laura Tingle, "Strike on Venezuela sets a new low for the world order — even by Donald Trump standards," she emphasizes Washington's "egregious disregard" for international law and allies' alarm: even those who dislike Maduro were "stunned" by the scale and unilateralism of the operation. Tingle writes that the operation to kidnap a sitting head of state became "one of the most spectacular displays of American power" and at the same time the most dangerous, because it destroys the post‑1945 taboo on such actions. (abc.net.au)

But in an ABC piece about Asian reactions a very different tone emerges — the cautious pragmatism of the Australian government. In coverage of reactions from Indonesia, Singapore and Malaysia, which expressed "deep concern" and called the capture of Maduro "a clear violation of international law" and "a dangerous precedent," it is noted that Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese took a more restrained position, limiting his response to calls for "dialogue and de‑escalation." (abc.net.au) In Canberra they see that neighbors are alarmed by a new American mode of action, but are not ready to openly oppose Washington: the US strategic umbrella remains more important for Australia than legal niceties.

South Korean editorials add a geopolitical dimension to the legal one. In its leading article "Venezuela crisis: prepare for its impact on the Korean Peninsula," Hankyoreh directly asks what would happen if the White House decides to apply the same logic to North Korea. The paper quotes Secretary of State Marco Rubio, who in an interview with American ABC claimed that Maduro "was not a legally elected president" and that the operation in Caracas was not an "invasion" but "the arrest of a drug criminal charged in the US." Such language, the editorial warns, can be applied with almost no change to North Korea, where the regime is also accused of crimes and violations. (v.daum.net)

Conservative South Korean outlets go even further in dramatization. In a Chosun Ilbo analysis structured almost like a script, the author asks: "Next — Kim Jong Un?" and stresses that "Trumpist diplomacy of force" could make North Korea the next target not only rhetorically but in operational planning. The same piece concedes that Washington's motives are far from solely "fighting a dictatorship": it's also about "recovering seized oil" and mobilizing the electorate ahead of US midterm elections. (v.daum.net)

For the Korean public these are not abstract musings: these articles are read through the prism of their own history and the constant threat of war on the peninsula. In an editorial Seoul Shinmun emphasizes that the US "has in effect shown its readiness to use military force to change regimes of hostile countries," and therefore for Seoul the open question arises: what to do if the logic of "force and interest" tomorrow outweighs all caveats about a "limited operation" or an "arrest of a criminal" and is applied to its northern neighbor.

Interestingly, both Australian and Korean authors actively discuss not only the fact of the operation itself but also the reactions of other states, which is especially noticeable in regional analysis. In an Australian ABC piece on the plunge in oil prices after strikes on Venezuela, it was noted how markets assess the risk of escalation and how ready the US now is to "intervene in the economies of its opponents" without regard to consequences. (abc.net.au) South Korean business press, such as Maeil Business, describes in detail the split in the UN Security Council, where "the US, Britain and France" insist that Maduro is "not the legitimate head of state," while China and Russia speak of "trampling sovereignty" and "a victim for natural resources." (mk.co.kr) There is a palpable worry: if standards that upheld decades of diplomacy break down so quickly in New York, small and medium states will have even fewer tools of protection.

This shift is articulated especially clearly by South Korean editors, speaking of "an acceleration of an international order where the logic of force is paramount." In the Seoul Shinmun version quoted on Nate, it is stated plainly: "The US declares realism in its foreign policy, but if 'Maduro 2.0' lasts another six months supported by his people, a bet on force is unlikely to look realistic." This is a nod to American realists, but delivered with Asian irony: even those who verbally reject moral constraints sometimes lose out by underestimating the complexity of the world. (news.nate.com)

Against this background, the French conversation about America in early 2026 goes beyond a single crisis and turns into a debate about the very nature of Western leadership. French columnists and experts, cited by Korean and Russian sources, insist that if the US continues to behave as "the sole superpower not bound by the details of international law," as The Guardian put it in a piece rehashed by the Korean Korea Daily, then they are gradually turning from "the world's policeman" into a "pariah state" in the eyes of the Global South. (koreadaily.com) In the French context such formulations are particularly sensitive: Paris traditionally claims a role as defender of multilateralism, and now must navigate between allied solidarity and growing irritation at an ally that acts without consultation.

In the Australian debate Trump is not just the initiator of one risky operation but a symbol of a broader shift. In an ABC piece on moderation policy changes at Meta after his election victory, Australians discussed how Trump's return to power in the US becomes a "cultural tipping point" toward "freer" — in Mark Zuckerberg's words — speech, but also a more toxic digital environment where disinformation can directly fuel aggressive foreign policy moves. (abc.net.au) For Australian commentators these are links in the same chain: the weakening of internal restraints in the American system — from media platforms to a Congress bypassed in the decision on the Venezuela operation — increases the likelihood of abrupt external moves.

South Korean editors in other pieces draw another worrying parallel: between the Venezuelan and Iranian cases. In analysis relayed by local media, political scientist Rahan Menon in a Guardian column warns that success in Caracas may push Trump toward attempts at more direct intervention in Iran, where bloody protests are already underway. (koreadaily.com) In an ABC article about remarks by Iran’s Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei, who called Trump "a criminal" allegedly inciting protesters and responsible for "thousands dead," the Australian audience sees yet another mirror: if the US is willing in one region to arrest the head of state and bring him to New York, is Washington prepared to go for a harsher scenario in Iran — and how will regional powers from Israel to Saudi Arabia react? (abc.net.au)

Finally, all three countries read a fundamental signal from the Venezuelan episode: the era when the United States was both the most powerful actor and the main guarantor of rules may be rapidly ending. In Seoul they ask how to craft policy in a world where both the US and China think in terms of "force and interest." In Paris there is fear that if Washington finally abandons the language of law, Europeans will shoulder a disproportionate burden of preserving norms that the other pole — Russia and China — is already contesting. In Canberra, closely reading the moods of Indonesia and Malaysia, they understand that the alliance with the US remains indispensable, but its cost in neighbors' eyes is rising.

These debates rarely reach English-speaking audiences in an intact form; all the more important, then, is that in Australia, South Korea and France today people are arguing not simply about whether Trump is right or wrong. They are arguing about what America should be in a world where "the law of the strong" has once again become a political slogan, and how to live next to such an America for those who cannot afford the luxury of either a complete break or blind loyalty.

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Tariffs and Submarines: Australia, France and South Korea vs Trump's America

Abroad today, the United States is spoken of not only as a superpower but as a source of instability — a partner it is at once impossible and dangerous to sever ties with. In Donald Trump’s second term three narratives particularly stir public opinion across various parts of the globe: a radical Washington turn toward tariff protectionism, the dismantling of the postwar order through forceful actions such as in Venezuela and the scramble for Greenland, and the reconfiguration of military alliances — from nuclear submarines in Seoul to a nervous reassessment of the alliance in Canberra. Against this backdrop everyday attitudes toward America are shifting: from falling tourist interest in France to doubts about shared values in Australia.

The first major strand of debate in all three countries is U.S. economic nationalism. French economists are now parsing not so much Trump’s political rhetoric as the dry numbers of his customs revolution. A Banque de France blog records that the U.S. average weighted tariff rate rose by roughly 14 percentage points between January and September 2025 to 18–20% — a level comparable, in their view, to the Smoot–Hawley tariffs of the 1930s — and that imports from France would see duties rise from 1.5% to around 11% if bilateral arrangements were fully applied. The authors explicitly call this a “historic strengthening of protectionism” and situate it on a trajectory of returning to trade barriers that began in Trump’s first term and was continued in different form under Biden. (banque-france.fr)

But unlike in past years, Europe no longer treats the surge in American protectionism as a temporary spike. The analytical journal Le Grand Continent warned that “Liberation Day” — as Trump dubbed his large tariff package — is already eroding the trade system created by the United States, on which giants like Apple and Nike depended. French readers are warned of threats of an “empire of empty shelves” in America itself, further weakening of the dollar, and boycotts of American goods in Canada and Denmark — read as a symptom of a long-term undermining of trust in the U.S. as a pillar of the global economy. (legrandcontinent.eu)

The new round of trade war — the White House’s announced additional 10% on imports from European countries that oppose the purchase of Greenland, with the prospect of rising to 25% by June 2026 — is already seen in France as a tool of political pressure rather than a classic trade measure. A piece in Benzinga France emphasizes that the tariffs deliberately target the states that have publicly objected to American plans in the Arctic: Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Germany, France, the United Kingdom and others. According to Trump’s logic, tariffs should “make them compensate for decades of ‘subsidizing’ the United States” and force a deal on Greenland. (fr.benzinga.com)

French discourse links macroeconomics to everyday life. An AFP reporter quotes the head of France’s largest tour operator association SETO, Patrice Caradec, who admits: “There is a Trump effect, let’s not deny it,” commenting on a 14.6% year‑on‑year fall in organized French travel to the U.S. through October 2025 and a further drop in bookings for summer 2026 of more than 29%. “You can’t say Trump is the best tourism ambassador for the United States,” he adds, explaining the cooling as a combination of America’s political image and high local inflation. (journaldemontreal.com)

In Australia the discussion of U.S. tariffs and the economy takes a different angle. There they closely read IMF warnings about a “prolonged cost-of-living pain,” where Trump’s tariffs are cited as one external shock contributing to stubborn inflation and weak growth. The IMF explicitly links high U.S. average tariffs — about 18.5% — to a deterioration in global trading conditions, which hits the Australian economy through falling global demand and rising prices for imported goods. (news.com.au)

At the same time, local press notes a paradoxical gain for Australia from the same American policy. As a Guardian column describes, a year into Trump’s second term Australian beef and gold exports to the U.S. more than doubled: some competitors faced even higher American tariffs, and problems in U.S. agriculture made Australian products especially sought after. Economists quoted by the paper concede that reality proved more complex than the predicted collapse. “The world adapted by redirecting flows, not through a pure trade war,” the author concludes, while warning of deep risks and Australia’s growing dependence on Washington’s whims. (theguardian.com)

In France, unlike in Australia, the tariff debate is intertwined with legal and institutional critique. Time France recounts a Kiel Institute study: an analysis of $4 trillion in shipments found that foreign exporters cover only about 4% of the “tariff burden,” while 96% falls on American consumers and importers. The authors conclude that an extra $200 billion in U.S. customs revenue in 2025 effectively represents a “tax almost entirely paid by Americans,” directly refuting Trump’s claim that “others pay for our growth.” (timefrance.fr)

In this economic conversation South Korea appears more as an object than an author: Russian and European analysts list it among countries subject to specific, higher tariffs — up to 25% for certain import categories, according to tariff-table analysis in the Russian business press that draws on American publications about “Liberation Day.” But for Seoul the hottest issues are different aspects of the American course. (vedomosti.ru)

The second, even more emotional layer of discussion is the radical break in American foreign policy, which in Paris is increasingly described as the dismantling of the postwar liberal order. French historian of American diplomacy Maya Kandel writes in Le Monde that Trump in his second term is “much more confident in using force” than before: he has dispensed with the “adults in the room” and surrounded himself with loyalists ready to implement his Hobbesian view of the world, where “the right of the strong” outweighs rules and institutions. Forceful actions in Venezuela and the attempt to “take” Greenland, Kandel stresses, are not accidental but fit a project of returning to a tightly defined American sphere of influence in the Western Hemisphere and conducting unilateral operations without regard for allies. (lemonde.fr)

France’s political and expert scene sees an alarming resemblance here with approaches taken by Russia and China — and they say so openly. Left‑leaning observers in Paris criticize “imperialism under the red MAGA cap,” right‑wing conservatives accuse the Trump administration of “hypocritical moralizing without real responsibility,” and centrists acknowledge the need to rethink European defence in case the U.S. is no longer a reliable guarantor. Specific episodes heighten this anxiety: the U.S. special operation to evacuate Nicolás Maduro to New York, followed by “increased threats” toward countries that did not support the intervention, is widely commented on in French business and political press as a moment when Europe understood that Washington is willing to act in Latin America without consultation and without regard for international law. (kiosque.latribune.fr)

Even more painful for the French audience was Greenland’s transformation from an exotic joke of Trump’s first term into a real foreign-policy line. An RTL report recalls that the appointment of a U.S. special envoy to the Danish autonomous island already sparked a burst of tension with Copenhagen, and a 2025 January poll in the local paper Sermitsiaq showed 85% of Greenlanders categorically opposed to ever coming under American sovereignty. Unauthorized “influence missions” by people linked to Trump’s circle and the vice president J.D. Vance’s attempt to fly to the island uninvited further irritated the Danes and Europeans. For French readers this is not just a story about a remote Arctic isle but a symbol: the U.S. increasingly behaves like a power that does not even recognize the formal bounds of allied respect. (rtl.fr)

In Australia the same trend is read through the prism of an alliance crisis. Columns in The Guardian Australia state that “faith in the big, powerful friend” has effectively “evaporated” over the year of Trump’s second term. Lowy Institute and YouGov polls cited by the paper show that up to 72% of Australians do not trust Trump to “do the right thing” on the world stage, and only about 8% think their country “shares values” with contemporary America. Former foreign minister Gareth Evans says in an interview that Trump’s America demonstrates “zero respect for international law, morality and the interests of allies,” while another former minister, Bob Carr, wrote on social media that “the alliance with mad U.S. policy may have run its course.” (theguardian.com)

Australian analysts, however, do not call for a sharp break: their argument combines fear of an “inconsistent and incoherent superpower” with the understanding that in the turbulent Indo‑Pacific U.S. military presence remains a cornerstone of security. Thus Canberra’s central question is not “leave or stay” but “how to reshape the alliance to reduce vulnerability to Washington’s whims.” Proposed responses include strengthening national defence capabilities, relying on regional ties, and a sober view that “Trumpism” could outlast Trump as a long-term feature of American policy. (theguardian.com)

The third strand attracting intense attention is the reshaping of military balances and alliances. Seoul and Canberra differ sharply in perspective here, but they share a common concern: how much can they rely on American guarantees and how much must they depend on their own capabilities.

For South Korea the key theme of late 2025 became the effective “green light” from Washington to build a national fleet of nuclear submarines. As Reuters reported in December 2025 — a report echoed by several Eastern European and Asian outlets — after U.S. approval Seoul gained access to the necessary nuclear fuel and technologies, opening the door to a new-generation submarine fleet and altering the balance of power in East Asia. South Korean debate — including in conservative newspapers and expert circles — revolves around two axes: on the one hand, it is seen as a historic chance to finally build a more independent deterrent against North Korea; on the other, it risks provoking a sharp Chinese reaction and a new regional arms race. (unian.net)

Seoul commentary often contains a theme of “conditional autonomy”: political pundits stress that without Washington’s blessing such a project would have been impossible, meaning Korea gains not absolute independence but a new form of technological and political dependence on the United States. The painful question also arises: how reliable are U.S. nuclear guarantees if the same White House simultaneously undermines multilateral institutions and changes rules without hesitation for short-term gain?

In Australia, by contrast, voices argue that U.S. reliance on demonstrative actions — from Venezuela to Greenland — makes the alliance risky. Some former ministers openly call for a “mental experiment”: imagine America suddenly absent from regional security, and craft policies so that such an absence would not be catastrophic. At the same time, AUKUS agreements and closer cooperation on submarine programs under U.S. leadership appear in Australian debates as a Janus face: a military force multiplier but also an anchor that could drag the country into conflicts initiated by Washington. (theguardian.com)

The French view on the military dimension of U.S. policy is marked by polarity. On the one hand, the finance minister recently praised in the National Assembly that the U.S., despite walking back from the original global tax deal, still agreed to a minimum tax for its corporations and is willing to discuss “pillar 1” — the reallocation of taxing rights — opening space for fairer taxation of digital giants. In his speech, the transcript of which is published on the Assembly website, there was relief: Washington is at least selectively returning to multilateral frameworks. On the other hand, the same parliament and the press continue to discuss the U.S. trend of exiting dozens of international organizations and agreements, as documented in analytical pieces about Trump’s new foreign policy. (assemblee-nationale.fr)

There is also a “softer” dimension of reaction to Trump’s America — cultural and social. In France the drop in interest in travel to the U.S. is explained not only by prices but by a change in the country’s symbolic image. Tour operators tell journalists that for a significant portion of the French public America has shifted from the “land of cinema and Route 66” to a space of political stress where people do not want to vacation. This is not a severing of ties, of course, but a symptom of eroding attractiveness. (journaldemontreal.com)

Australian sociologists note a similar trend but on another plane: surveys of youth show a growing share who call the U.S. “undemocratic” or “somewhat authoritarian,” chiefly because of Trump’s rhetoric, his ambivalent stance on climate and racial justice, and the pardons for participants in the Capitol assault — widely described in Europe as a “legitimization of domestic violence.” For generations raised on the idea of American democracy as a model, this is a reversal, and Australian analysts fear that young people’s instinctive support for the U.S. alliance may weaken. (theguardian.com)

South Korean public debate, by contrast, is less ideological and more pragmatic. Commentators focus less on whether they like Trump’s America and more on how to use the moment to Seoul’s advantage while avoiding becoming hostage to someone else’s strategy. Supporting a national nuclear submarine fleet — yes — but at the same time preventing the U.S. and China from turning Korea into a stage for power projection. Few entertain illusions: if tomorrow the White House decides to change course, no treaty guarantees Seoul the same level of support.

Taken together, reactions in France, Australia and South Korea paint an image of a world that no longer assumes the U.S. is the “natural leader” by default. For Paris Trump’s America is above all a risky economic and geopolitical player forcing Europe to think about strategic autonomy and a remapping of trade. For Canberra it remains indispensable but deeply unreliable, pushing toward reappraisal of dependence and bolstering of its own defence. For Seoul the U.S. is a source of vital security and technology, but also a potential escalatory factor that requires balancing between autonomy aspirations and the fear of losing American cover.

Common to all three countries is not antagonism toward the U.S. but a loss of trust in the predictability of American policy. The world that once was built around American rules is now increasingly building systems of insurance around America — from tax agreements and trade diversification to submarine fleets and the rethinking of military alliances. According to contemporary French, Australian and South Korean debates, this is the principal effect of the U.S. in the Trump era: not the end of American influence, but the end of faith in its durability.

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The world watches America: how Australia, France and South Korea discuss Trump's second term, tariffs...

A year after Donald Trump's return to the White House, the United States has once again become the main nerve center of world politics. But while debates about Trump inside the US often revolve around domestic scandals, other questions come to the fore across the ocean: America's reliability as an ally, the cost of its tariff war for other economies, and whether the United States remains a democracy at all. In Australia these concerns are voiced through anxiety about security and prosperity; in France — through the language of "imperialism," the "Monroe Doctrine" and a "phantom democracy"; in South Korea — through cold calculation: what will happen to deterring the DPRK and to the balance of power in Asia if Washington retreats into itself.

If we move away from English‑language sources and look at what local media write and what local politicians say, a common picture emerges. For Australia, France and South Korea, the US is ceasing to be an abstract "leader of the free world" and is increasingly perceived as a source of risk that must be insured against and constrained. But the content of these fears differs in each country.

One of the main running themes is Trump's second term and the state of American democracy. In France this topic is discussed almost as a laboratory example of an "authoritarian shift" in the Western system. The journal Le Grand Continent publishes an extended analysis under the striking question: "Les États‑Unis sont‑ils encore une démocratie?" — "Are the United States still a democracy?" The authors systematically describe how the Trump administration is expanding emergency powers: since 20 January 2025 the president has declared ten states of national emergency, far outpacing his predecessors, and uses them not for sanctions but to strengthen his own power. They list cases of the National Guard being deployed in Washington, Memphis and New Orleans, when the federal center effectively replaces local authorities, and courts only partially manage to slow these initiatives. The text explains in detail that, unlike previous emergencies related to foreign‑policy crises, the new "urgencies" serve domestic politics — from migration to tariffs — and blur the separation of powers itself.

French publicists do not shy away from harsh formulations. Former Member of the European Parliament Michel Scarbonchi, in his column for Opinion Internationale, describes Trump as a leader who has "methodically and cruelly deconstructed American democracy," emphasizes a "Congress with trampled powers," a "federal state stripped of prerogatives," "the judiciary at his service, pursuing opponents," and an "anti‑migration police with militia powers." The author compares today's US to an autocracy of a "different era" and concludes that a country long held up as a model of separation of powers is itself exiting that club standard.

These motifs also appear in official political discourse. In transcripts of French parliamentary sessions, Macron‑aligned deputies openly speak of the "deconstruction of democracy," of the Trump administration "attacking the Constitution," and of millions of Americans "seeing their model of democracy fall apart" and being ready to move to Europe. One parliamentarian urges using this moment to attract American scientists and entrepreneurs fleeing the "authoritarian drift" in the US to France, thereby strengthening the European model of liberal democracy and opposing "Trumpism."

In the French media space this is picked up and recast into more vivid formulas. Courrier International announces a special issue titled "Goodbye America," devoted to "political and social upheavals in the US," and relays the idea from The Atlantic that Trump is turning the United States into a "zombie democracy": formally the institutions are still alive, but from within they are already eroded by authoritarian logic.

Australian press approaches the question differently: here they do not theorize about a "zombie democracy" at the constitutional level, but think much more about practical consequences for the alliance and the economy. In a major analytical piece in The Guardian Australia it is argued that "Australia's confidence in Trump's America has evaporated": new polls show that the majority of Australians do not trust the US as a reliable and principled ally. Leading foreign‑policy experts such as Michael Fullilove and Bec Streatfeild emphasize the situation's duality: on one hand, Trump undermines the rules and institutions that shaped the postwar order; on the other — in the unstable Indo‑Pacific region Australia still critically depends on the American military "umbrella." That is why the idea of "insuring" against Washington constantly recurs in analysis: strengthening one's own defense capabilities, deepening ties with Asian neighbors, and cautious but continued engagement with the US.

Interestingly, in France Trump appears more as a threat to the European order and international law, whereas in Australia he is viewed as a factor of strategic uncertainty. There is less rhetoric about the "collapse of democracy" and more pragmatic questioning: if America has become unpredictable, what should we do? This difference is also apparent in reactions to Washington's foreign policy.

French media and politicians see Trump's new foreign doctrine as a revival of old "resource imperialism" and Monroe‑style backyard logic. Mediapart, in its dossier "Trump II, l’heure du chaos mondial," writes about how the US president in December presented a new national security strategy, explicitly stating an intention to "return to the Monroe Doctrine" and reassert US guardianship over Latin America. On 3 January 2026 this already turned into a strike on Venezuela and the kidnapping of Nicolás Maduro. For French commentators the importance is not only the fate of Caracas but the principle: Washington is conspicuously acting outside international law, undermining the multilateral order that France traditionally defends.

This line flows directly into discussion of transatlantic relations. In the National Assembly deputies talk about "Washington's imperialism" in Latin America and simultaneously about "tariff blackmail" directed at Europe. One speaker notes that the US "directly threatens Europe's territorial sovereignty and uses tariffs as a tool of pressure," and for this reason, he says, "there is no longer talk of ratifying" the trade agreement with Washington prepared by Brussels. France, in this context, positions itself as a locomotive for a tough response: Paris supports suspending the trade deal with the US in the European Parliament and declares it will not yield to "tariff blackmail, whatever its source."

Against this backdrop French think tanks, such as the economic research unit of BNP Paribas, try to soberly assess the cost of Trump's tariff offensive. Their reports speak of "negative political shifts for the American economy" and a renewed threat of stagflation: they estimate that a sharp rise in the average weighted tariff from roughly 2–3% to about 15–16% on imports is already pushing inflation above 3% year‑on‑year by mid‑2026, and slowing growth and falling investment make recession a quite realistic scenario. Economists note a paradox: while Trump brags about having "solved" inflation, European analysts warn that his tariff and migration policies are accelerating prices and breaking the old model of globalization.

Australian media view the same tariffs through a different prism: for them America's trade war is a blow to their own standard of living. News portals quote IMF warnings that Trump's high tariff wall — on average around 18.5% — amplifies global inflationary pressure and will hold back growth for years. One Australian article stresses: even if domestic inflation has already slipped to 3.4%, the main burden for Australia lies ahead — through trade channels and commodity prices. The piece cites estimates that medium‑term economic growth in the country will be just above 2% per year, and the Reserve Bank will find itself squeezed between the need to contain inflation and the risk of choking off weak demand.

Economists and market analysts in Australia directly link upside risks for local interest rates to "Trumpflation." Commentaries from AMP and other investment houses say that the combination of US tax cuts, protectionism, migration restrictions and attacks on Fed independence creates sustained pressure on bond yields and global rates. As AMP strategist Shane Oliver explains, US inflation driven by tariffs could trigger a "global rollback" to higher rates, including tightening by the RBA — something Australian households with large mortgages fear in particular.

Here the interests of Paris and Canberra unexpectedly intersect. Both French and Australian experts see Trump's tariff war as a factor of global stagflation, but they emphasize different aspects. For France the political aspect is more important — transforming tariffs into a weapon to pressure allies, "blackmailing" Europe and attempting to rewrite multilateral trade rules under slogans of sovereignty. For Australia, far more dependent on Asian markets and the US dollar, Trump's tariffs are first and foremost a risk of a new round of cost‑of‑living crisis and a prolonged period of "inflation pain" for the average household.

A separate theme where reactions from Australia, France and South Korea converge is whether the US can be relied upon as a military and political ally when Trumpism reigns in Washington. Australian polls reported by ABC and other local media record a sharp shift in public opinion: about two‑thirds of Australians believe the US can no longer be considered a reliable military ally, and a substantial portion favor developing a "more independent" defense capability. Experts nevertheless remind readers that they still consider America "the most important country" for Australia's foreign policy and the second most significant trade partner. This cognitive dissonance — dependence on a power you do not trust — runs like a red thread through Australian debate.

This dissatisfaction extends well beyond the elites. Young Australians, whose voices are increasingly heard in polls and reports, call the US a "political circus," point to "old leaders" and the inability of the two‑party system to meet young people's demands. In street interviews teenagers and students express fears that the cultural and political agenda of Trumpist America — from a "hard right turn" to weakening climate policy and re‑heroizing guns — could spill over into Australia, pushing local parties to mimic it. At a mundane level this results in simple formulas: "we don't want to copy America on guns" and "we must keep our politicians away from American polarization."

French politics, by contrast, is built around the idea of Europe's necessary "emancipation" from strategic dependence on the US. In parliamentary debates deputies say directly that the United States "no longer considers us allies," that Washington is deliberately trying to "divide" Europe and weaken its unity, and that the new administration in the White House is abandoning the postwar role of guarantor of pan‑European security. Against this background French authorities call for strengthening European defense autonomy and support a hard line in the EU: suspension of trade agreements, preparation of countermeasures to possible tariff attacks, and development of independent financial and technological instruments.

The South Korean discussion is less publicly emotional but deeply anxious. Leading Seoul newspapers and expert circles have for the third year in a row been debating whether Trumpism means a gradual US retreat from security guarantees in Asia. Tokyo and Seoul were already shocked when Trump in prior presidential campaigns called allies "freeloaders" and entertained the conditional possibility of removing the American nuclear umbrella. Now, in his second administration, Korean analysts again ask: if Washington pursues an "America First" strategy and tries to reduce its military presence on the peninsula, is South Korea ready to deter the DPRK and growing Chinese pressure on its own?

Korean commentators, unlike the French, talk less about the "death of democracy" in the US but actively emphasize the unpredictability of American foreign policy. Articles on North Korea's nuclear program and US‑China rivalry quietly but insistently repeat the thought: one should not build the entire architecture of national security on the assumption that Washington will always have rational and predictable leaders. Ideas under discussion include strengthening their own missile and air‑defense systems, expanding cooperation with Japan, and cautiously maneuvering between the US and China so as not to become hostage to someone else's tariff and military wars.

Against all this the image of America as a cultural and political model acquires special significance. And here too a shift is noticeable. If ten to fifteen years ago in France, Australia and South Korea the US was often associated with innovation, freedom and social mobility, local texts increasingly express a sense of "fatigue" with the American example. Australian teenagers tell ABC journalists that "the picture of America as a country where dreams come true is dying" amid economic crises and political chaos. French authors write that the US can no longer claim to be an exporter of democracy if a "cult of personality" branded Trump — appearing on everything from residence cards to children's savings accounts — is unfolding at home.

Paradoxically, this decline in admiration for America is accompanied by growing interest in what comes next. In Australia this turns into the question: how far can we "disconnect" from the US without destroying our economic and defense foundations? In France — into reflections on whether Europe, especially after the war in Ukraine and the Venezuelan crisis, can become an independent pole not reliant on the US. In South Korea — into the search for a balance that preserves the alliance with Washington while ensuring critical supply chains and security are not held hostage to someone else's next campaign rhetoric.

The common conclusion for the three countries is one: America is no longer perceived as a "given." Its internal crises and external unpredictability have become a factor that must be constantly taken into account, rethought and, as far as possible, insured against. Australia is doing this through a cautious reassessment of the alliance and a painful domestic debate about the tariff war and the cost of living. France — through a hard political and intellectual diagnosis of an "imperial zombie democracy" and demands for European strategic autonomy. South Korea — through technocratic strengthening of defense and cautious diversification of foreign‑policy supports.

From the Americans' point of view this may all seem like excessive dramatization: after all, institutions still function, the opposition exists, and no one has officially cancelled elections. But if one listens carefully to Australian, French and Korean voices, it becomes clear: even if American democracy is not dead, for many outside the US it has already ceased to be the idealized model that could be taken on faith. Now it is seen as a country whose decisions — from tariffs to expeditionary operations — can at any moment change the economic and political weather in the world. And this realization is now pushing allies to finally build their own, if more modest, resilience systems — not around America, but alongside it.

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How the World Sees Trump’s America: Views from India, Germany and Israel

Donald Trump’s second term has put the United States back at the center of discussions in many countries, but the tone of those discussions is far from uniform. In India, Germany and Israel the United States is seen simultaneously as an indispensable partner, a source of instability, and a laboratory for politico‑economic experiments whose consequences are felt worldwide. Fresh waves of commentary were prompted by threats of sweeping tariffs against European allies to “buy” Greenland, a hard line on trade and sanctions, attempts to reshape NATO, a contentious view of the dollar and the Federal Reserve, and Washington’s push for its own architecture of “peace” in the Middle East.

The first major nerve is U.S. economic nationalism, which in Trump’s second term has taken the form of a conspicuously aggressive strategy. In Germany this line is no longer seen as eccentricity but as a systemic challenge. A mass survey published in the German press with reference to ZDF‑Politbarometer shows that 78% of Germans consider Trump’s policies a threat to NATO, and the episode with the demand to buy Greenland from Denmark is perceived not only as a diplomatic scandal but also as an erosion of trust within the alliance. The same research records outrage at unilateral use of force by the U.S., such as the arrest of Nicolás Maduro in Venezuela by American forces: 69% of respondents support a “firm EU response” to such “violations of international law” by Washington, notes an analysis in Bild summarizing Trump’s foreign policy in his second term.

German commentators see today’s Washington as a powerful but highly unreliable partner. A review of Trump’s foreign‑policy course in his second term in Die Welt describes it as an “unpredictable and ambitious force” with a “mixed record” in Ukraine, the Middle East and the Asia‑Pacific: the U.S. increased military support for Taiwan and weakened Iran, but at the same time launched a destructive trade conflict with China and undermined Europeans’, including Germans’, confidence in NATO’s long‑term commitments. For Germany, for which the transatlantic alliance has for decades been an unquestioned “anchor,” scenarios where not everything depends on American protection are being discussed seriously for the first time.

For Israel, the American economic and geopolitical pivot remains ambivalent but largely beneficial. Israeli economic and political columnists analyze in detail how U.S. inflation, Fed policy and trade wars affect the shekel, Israeli exports and the price of security. Economic outlet ynet notes that, according to December 2025 data, U.S. inflation stood at 2.7% year‑on‑year — exactly as markets expected — and emphasizes that for Israel this signals a likely near‑term Fed rate cut, which could ease debt burdens and increase investors’ risk appetite. In another piece the same portal quotes Trump’s Davos speech where the U.S. president declared, “America is thriving — the era of stagflation is over,” and against this background he pressures Europe while promoting new global initiatives. For Israeli commentators, the important issue is not only the state of the American economy but also that Trump openly uses it as an instrument of foreign‑policy pressure.

The Indian perspective is far more pragmatic. In Indian media economics sections, discussion of the U.S. almost always ties back to specific New Delhi interests: trade talks, sanctions and India’s role in an emerging multipolar world. The Times of India, covering ongoing negotiations on a bilateral trade deal, quotes Commerce Secretary Rajesh Agrawal, who emphasizes that India and the U.S. are “actively engaged” in discussing an agreement but “no timelines can be given” — a cautious formula reflecting a desire to extract the maximum concessions from Washington without burning bridges.

Even more sensitive for the Indian audience has been the approaching expiry of the U.S. sanction “waiver” for the Chabahar port in Iran. As The Economic Times notes, India’s foreign ministry openly states that it is in dialogue with Washington about extending until April 26, 2026, the special regime that allows India to use Chabahar as a strategic corridor to Afghanistan and Central Asia, bypassing Pakistan. For Indian analysts, this is an example of how the U.S. sanctions regime becomes a constant of global politics to be negotiated rather than principledly opposed: criticism of the extraterritorial nature of American sanctions coexists with the recognition that without Washington Indian plans for regional integration will be slowed.

If the German discussion of America today is built around security and international law, and the Indian one around economic opportunities and constraints, in Israel the U.S. is still primarily seen as the main political and defense guarantor. But here too the focus is less on abstract “U.S. leadership” than on Trump’s specific style. In an analytical piece for Calcalist, Adrian Pilut describes 2025 as a “year of paradigm destruction,” when Trump’s return to the White House ceased to be a “curio” and became a “formulated doctrine”: global tariffs, closed borders, ignoring the climate crisis and pressure on the Fed’s independence have become, he says, “the basis of a new reality.” The author stresses that even critics admit “something has fundamentally changed,” and in 2026 the world will only begin to grasp the balance of pros and cons of this American overhaul.

A particular worry in Israel is the intersection of Trump’s foreign‑policy activism with his domestic populism. News outlet Makor Rishon in spring 2025 quoted the U.S. president saying in an NBC interview that he was “not joking” about a potential third term and that he had allegedly been “shown plans” allowing him to circumvent the two‑term constitutional limit. The piece’s author points out that one of the scenarios Trump sketches involves a link with Vice President J. D. Vance, who could theoretically win an election and then “cede” the office. For a significant part of the Israeli audience, including the right, this is an alarming signal: a country considered a flagship of liberal democracy is flirting with the idea of eroding fundamental constitutional norms — and that inevitably undermines the argument of the U.S. as a moral arbiter in disputes with authoritarian regimes.

Another hot topic in Israel has been Trump’s attempt to institutionalize his influence on the Middle East process through the so‑called “Moatza ha‑shalom” — the “Council of Peace” for Gaza. As early as December 2025, portal Hardim10 quoted him saying that in early 2026 he would announce the creation of a “legendary Council of Peace,” which would consist “of the leaders of the world’s most important states” and would deal with Gaza’s reconstruction. As Zman Israel later wrote, Trump’s second term looks like an attempt to compensate for what he believes was a “stolen” previous term, and “from now on everything must happen by his will.” Israeli observers note that Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who received an invitation to this Council, will have to explain to his supporters why, contrary to earlier promises, Hamas has not been destroyed and representatives of the Palestinian Authority, Egypt, Turkey and Qatar receive institutionalized roles in postwar arrangements. Here the U.S. acts as the architect of a new regional construct, but the Israeli press does not hide its skepticism: many see the “Council of Peace” more as a club of billionaires and politicians planning to convert Gaza’s reconstruction into business than as a durable peace mechanism.

Against this background, German and Israeli agendas unexpectedly converge in discussing how much Trump’s America remains an “anchor” of the Western order. Israeli commentators, like their German colleagues, note strong European irritation over American tariffs and attempts to force a Greenland deal. In Channel 10’s economics section it is emphasized that Trump’s threats to impose 10% tariffs from February 1, 2026, on imports from eight European countries, including Germany, France and Denmark — and to raise them to 25% by June 1 — sent Wall Street futures tumbling and weakened the dollar, and European politicians began talking about a “day of trade reckoning” and the need to develop a “retaliatory arsenal” against the U.S. Israeli analysts point out that this is not merely a local economic conflict but a symptom of a deeper crack in Western unity, with direct consequences for the Middle East, where a coordinated Washington‑Brussels stance has always been an important lever of pressure.

In India, by contrast, the Greenland story and European tariffs are discussed much more calmly: there it is another confirmation that the world is shifting from a familiar “rules‑based order” to a world of hard bargaining and unilateral actions, to which India seeks to adapt rather than resist. At the Jaipur literary festival, reported by the Times of India, participants on the “New World Order” panel discussed the “muted reaction” of many countries to U.S. actions — from Venezuela to Greenland. Colombian lawyer and publicist Oscar Guardiola‑Rivera noted that the “particular silence” of India and Europe regarding American expansionist rhetoric worries Latin American observers: they see it as a sign that even large regional powers prefer not to confront Washington when their own economic interests are at stake.

At the same time Indian experts point out that reality is already objectively multipolar. Former British politician Vince Cable, in the same discussion as reported by the Indian press, described a world where China, India and the U.S. are three key poles, while Indonesia, Turkey and Brazil rise to the status of “middle powers.” In this narrative Trump’s America is not a solitary hegemon but one heavyweight among others, forced to reckon with peers and periodically resorting to demonstrative force (economic or military) to preserve its status. India’s reaction thus combines criticism of American unilateral moves with the understanding that Washington’s toughness accelerates the shift to a system in which Delhi (as well as Berlin) will have more room to maneuver.

Finally, a distinct thread in foreign press discussions of the U.S. concerns America’s internal resilience. Israeli media covered in detail the record 40‑day federal government “shutdown” in autumn 2025, which Israel Hayom characterized as an “unprecedented halt” in state operations due to Trump’s conflict with Congress over social and medical programs for 2026. In German and Indian analysis this episode is often cited as an example that political polarization in the U.S. has ceased to be a “domestic problem” and has become a factor of global risk: the country that issues the world’s reserve currency and controls key security institutions shows a willingness to stop its own government as a lever in internal political struggle.

Taken together, the view from India, Germany and Israel shows that the world no longer argues about whether America is “great”: it is discussing how to live in the shadow of a U.S. whose power remains enormous but whose predictability has sharply declined. For Germany it is an occasion to talk about its own strategic autonomy and a European response to Washington’s unilateral moves. For India — an opportunity to grow into an independent center of power, navigating between American sanctions and economic partnerships. For Israel — a painful realization of dependence on a leader who offers unprecedented political support while undermining the very democratic standards Israel has relied on together with the U.S.

Thus a new international debate is taking shape: not about whether the U.S. “has returned to leadership,” but about the price the world pays for America’s “reboot” under Trump — and how each country tries to turn this turbulence into its own opportunity.

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How the World Sees Trump's America: Economic Blows, Political Distrust and Pragmatism

In different parts of the world today the United States is discussed in almost the same tone: it remains an indispensable power on which security, money and technology depend, but it is an increasingly unpredictable partner, especially after Donald Trump’s return to the White House. In Germany they argue about how to protect exports and investments from new American tariffs. In South Africa they discuss a humiliating attempt by Washington to exclude the country from the G20 format and an old, multilayered trauma of racial politics. In Ukraine every statement from Washington is perceived at once as a lifeline and as a source of pressure: from pauses in the delivery of air defense systems to American ideas about temporary ceasefires with Russia and invitations for Kyiv to participate in a new “Peace Council” on Gaza. Underlying all this is a single nerve: a growing conviction that the world lives in an era of “America First,” and everyone has to learn how to survive alongside this version of the United States.

One of the central themes in German debates has become new trade and investment blows from the United States. German publications analyze in detail how in 2025 Germany’s exports to the United States fell by almost ten percent, primarily due to the automotive industry and mechanical engineering, against the backdrop of higher tariffs and threats of new duties in 2026. A Welt piece on the export decline emphasizes that Germany’s trade surplus with the US fell to its lowest level since 2021, and that new American duties of 10–25 percent on goods from several European NATO members are already being seen as the start of a new escalation of a trade war in which Washington uses the economy as a tool of geopolitical pressure; in this case the pretext was not even the classic disputes over steel or subsidies, but the conflict around Greenland and the Europeans’ stance on it. In another analysis in the same paper a mirrored effect in the capital sphere is noted: according to the German Economic Institute, Germany’s direct investments in the US in the first months of Trump’s second term fell by almost half compared with 2024 – expert Samina Sultan explains this by “political unpredictability” and tariff threats that scare off companies, even despite the continuing attractiveness of the American market. These pieces show a noticeable shift: while a few years ago Berlin debated how to “reorient” the economy away from China, now it speaks more often about the need to reduce dependence on the US as well, because the rules of the game there are no longer considered stable.

Against this background another motif appears in the German discourse – Europe’s strategic lag behind America in new technologies. An IMF review for Davos, cited by German media, compares growth forecasts: 3.3 percent for the global economy, 2.4 percent for the US, and only about 1.1 percent for Germany, while American economic success is directly linked to aggressive investments in artificial intelligence and the dominance of American tech corporations. Such a contrast intensifies a long-standing German complex: a country with a strong industrial base sees Washington and Silicon Valley turning technological leadership into a political resource, dictating terms in security, trade and digital market regulation. Here, unlike in Ukraine or South Africa, the concern is not fear of physical vulnerability but anxiety about a structural shift in which America of the new cycle uses its technological advantage as bluntly as Trump uses tariffs.

The South African discussion about the US today is, by contrast, colored primarily in political and moral tones. The occasion was a scandal around the planned 2026 G20 summit in Miami: the American president publicly stated that he intended not to invite South Africa to the meeting, accusing the country’s authorities of “genocide of white farmers” and “horrific human rights violations” against the white population. Die Zeit, among others, wrote about this, quoting in detail Trump’s accusatory posts on his social network and reminding readers that he has been exploiting this narrative for several years, contradicting data from most researchers and human rights organizations. For South African politicians and experts such statements are not only an insult but an attempt to return the discussion about the country to a colonial frame, where the history of apartheid and violence is reduced to fears about “oppression of whites.” The ruling party and many commentators respond by referring to their own heavy experience of racial segregation and emphasize that Trump’s accusations are a tool of pressure against Pretoria’s more independent foreign policy, including ties with BRICS and a relatively independent stance on Ukraine and Israel. In this conflict, as in the German tariff debate, a common line emerges: Trump uses bilateral levers – from G20 status to human rights rhetoric – to punish countries that do not fit his idea of allied loyalty, and those countries see this not as concern for values but as a continuation of a policy of power.

The Ukrainian conversation about the US has a very different tone – it is much tenser and simultaneously more pragmatic. For Kyiv, America, both under Biden and Trump, remains the key guarantor of survival in the war with Russia. Therefore every decision from Washington is seen in two dimensions: on the one hand, as vital support, and on the other, as a source of dangerous compromises imposed from outside. Ukrainian media analyzed in detail Kyiv’s March 2025 agreement to a US-proposed 30-day ceasefire in the war with Russia. In interviews with local journalists Volodymyr Zelensky explained that they agreed not because they believed in Moscow’s goodwill but so as not to play into accusations of “not wanting peace”: in his words, it was important to demonstrate that it is Russia blocking any pause in fighting, while Ukraine is ready for a limited truce if it helps strengthen the international coalition. Ukrainian commentators noted that this step simultaneously reflected a desire not to lose American support and a fear that a temporary ceasefire could be used to pressure Kyiv into consolidating a new status quo on the front.

The duality of Ukraine’s attitude toward the US was even more evident on the question of military aid. In January 2026 Zelensky, answering journalists’ questions, had to admit that no new US air defense systems had yet arrived in the country, although deliveries of missiles for existing batteries were continuing. For a society that had endured a series of massive Russian strikes on infrastructure, this news was an alarming signal: Washington still speaks of “unwavering support,” but actual deliveries, especially of the most scarce systems, are proceeding more slowly than expected. Against this background Ukrainian analysts actively discussed the US National Defense Authorization Act for 2026, passed in December 2025, which allocates relatively modest direct sums for Ukraine – $400 million for 2026 and 2027 within a nearly $900 billion military budget. For many this symbolizes that Ukraine is no longer the central storyline of American policy but has become one of many budget items in the long-term confrontation between the US, Russia and China, where the White House seeks to limit financial commitments while retaining political control over the course of the conflict.

Nevertheless, an important caveat remains in all Ukrainian discussions: without the US the war would already have been lost. This theme is also clearly audible in the words of European allies. For example, Polish prime minister Donald Tusk, in comments cited by the Ukrainian intelligence service, conveys the position of American negotiators: according to him, businessman and Trump adviser Steve Witkoff assured that America would be involved in a system of security guarantees for Ukraine in a way that would leave Russia without doubt: in case of violation of the guarantees the response would likely be military. This phrase shows how much weight Kyiv and Warsaw attach not only to formal statements from Washington but to semi-official signals of readiness to use force. At the same time Ukrainian leaders emphasize that they are watching closely how the US’s tone changes: at the end of 2025 Zelensky explicitly said that Kyiv “awaits signals” from the American delegation after its talks with Moscow, thereby acknowledging that much of the war’s fate is still decided not only on the battlefield but in the corridors of power in Washington.

A special place in Ukrainian assessments of the US is occupied by the Middle East direction, where Washington tried to give its diplomacy a new format. In January 2026 Zelensky confirmed that the United States invited Ukraine to join the so-called “Peace Council” – a structure initiated by the Trump administration to resolve the conflict in the Gaza Strip. The mere fact of the invitation is perceived by Kyiv as recognition of its foreign-policy weight: a country recently considered peripheral finds itself participating in the global security architecture. But Zelensky almost immediately added that he finds it “very difficult to imagine” how Ukraine could sit at the same table with Russia in this structure, since Moscow remains an enemy for Kyiv. This creates a complicated diplomatic knot: on the one hand, participation in an American initiative would boost Ukraine’s legitimacy in the Middle East and strengthen its ties with Washington; on the other, forced proximity with Russian representatives in the “Peace Council” risks becoming a symbolic recognition of Russia as a partner in security matters, whereas in Ukrainian eyes it is a source of global instability, not a participant in its resolution. Commentators in Kyiv note that American attempts to integrate Ukraine into its Middle East projects reflect Washington’s desire to “normalize” the conflict, to turn it into one of many manageable crises, rather than the existential war that Ukrainians themselves see.

Interestingly, this resonates with perceptions of the US as a moral and cultural phenomenon in Germany and South Africa. In the German cultural field there is a noticeable effort to separate “America” as a source of inspiration – from jazz and film to the image of the liberator of 1945 – from the concrete policies of the current administration. Thus, well-known musician Wolfgang Niedecken in an interview calls current American-German relations “more contradictory than ever,” while emphasizing gratitude to the US for liberation from Nazism and his personal attachment to American culture. This separation—between America as an idea and the US as a state pursuing a hard line—becomes increasingly typical in the German intellectual milieu.

In South Africa, by contrast, cultural-historical experience makes many local voices particularly sensitive to how Washington treats the issue of human rights and racial justice. When Trump, speaking of a “genocide of white farmers,” effectively ignores decades of violence against the black majority and the complex reality of land reform, some South African commentators perceive this as an attempt to rewrite history in the spirit of old colonial narratives, in which black suffering is marginalized and any steps toward redistribution of resources are declared discrimination against whites. At the same time, as South African analysts note, economic ties with the US and access to American markets remain critically important for the country, creating a deep internal conflict: how to resist humiliating rhetoric and pressure without destroying the possibility of obtaining investments and technologies.

What unites Germany, South Africa and Ukraine is the feeling that the US, especially under Trump, is abandoning the role of a predictable “guardian of rules” and increasingly acts like a great power of the 19th century that uses tariffs, summit invitations, “peace council” formats and military aid as tools of bilateral bargaining. Yet none of these countries is ready to seriously talk about “decoupling” from America. German business, despite falling investments, continues to see the US as a key market and technological partner. South Africa understands that without participation in western clubs like the G20 it will be much harder to advance its agenda in a world of growing competition between blocs. Ukraine, finally, knows all too well that without American money, weapons and a political umbrella its chances of surviving a clash with Russia would be dramatically lower.

From this arises another seldom-voiced but widely felt thought: the world must simultaneously adapt to “Trump’s America” and prepare for a possible next change of course in Washington. In Berlin this stimulates the long-standing but still poorly implemented idea of European strategic autonomy – creating its own defense and technological capacities that would reduce dependence on the whims of the White House. In Pretoria there are calls to strengthen ties with BRICS and to use alternative platforms more systematically so that a single American decision cannot erase the country’s status as an important player of the Global South. In Kyiv there is a painful search for balance between maintaining a hard line in the war and being ready to account for allies’ fatigue and shifting priorities, primarily those of the US: Ukrainian authorities synchronize sanctions with Washington, adapt to American security formats, yet try to set red lines on territorial concessions and forced ceasefires.

Thus the international conversation about the US today is not a set of isolated reactions but a single, though polyphonic, story about how countries of differing size, wealth and political weight adapt to an era in which America remains a center of gravity but is less and less perceived as a moral or institutional anchor. For Germans this is primarily a question of economic resilience and technological sovereignty. For South Africans it is a matter of dignity and racial justice in relations with a former and current metropole. For Ukrainians it is the dilemma between gratitude for support and fear that their war will at some point become merely an element of a broader deal between Washington and other centers of power. This complexity cannot be seen by reading only American media: it appears precisely in local columns, interviews and political debates in Berlin, Pretoria and Kyiv—how they speak of the US, often addressing not Washington but themselves.

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The World Watches Washington: Brazil, Germany and Saudi Arabia Debate the US Role

At the start of 2026, the United States once again finds itself at the center of global disputes — but those disputes look different in São Paulo, Berlin and Riyadh. For Brazilian leftists and Arab commentators, the US is primarily the chief director of the Middle Eastern drama, whose calculating approach to the war in Gaza breeds bitterness and distrust. For German economic and political circles, America is simultaneously the life preserver of the global economy and the source of painful protectionism that hits German exports and exposes its own technological lag. In Saudi Arabia, Washington is seen as a partner with whom a delicate balance must be struck: security, oil and regional deals on one side of the scale, human rights and American public opinion on the other.

The main theme that unites these countries is the reformatting of American leadership: from Middle East diplomacy and new entry restrictions to customs wars and artificial intelligence. But despite these shared storylines, each place has its own perspective.

One of the most emotionally charged disputes concerns the role of the US in the war in Gaza and Washington’s attempts to impose its vision of a peaceful settlement. In Brazil’s left‑radical and progressive press, the tone is set by pieces like the analysis in Brasil de Fato, where Palestinian activist Badrа El Sheikh asserts that the current ceasefire plan, negotiated with US and Egyptian mediation, “serves the United States’ interests more than the people of Gaza.” In her view, the Donald Trump administration uses negotiations as a tool to improve its image and achieve electoral goals ahead of the vote, rather than as an attempt to respond to Palestinians’ basic political demands; journalists stress that, from their perspective, Washington still views the region through the prism of military and geopolitical alliances, leaving the humanitarian dimension secondary, and that is why a significant part of Brazil’s center‑left spectrum speaks of the US as a “power holding the Middle East hostage” to its global calculations. This angle resonates with a broad pro‑Saudi and pro‑Palestinian Arab audience, where the idea that every US step in the region is linked to internal American politics — from elections to elite struggles — has long taken root.

Nevertheless, in the Arab world itself, and especially in Saudi Arabia, the debate about the US is much less black‑and‑white. In a piece in Al‑Mashhad al‑Yamani about the Saudi foreign minister’s January visit to Washington, it is emphasized that discussions of the “prospects for political and defense cooperation” are taking place at an “extremely sensitive regional moment” and are presented as confirmation of the depth of strategic partnership between Riyadh and Washington. The authors note a duality: on one hand, Arab media regularly publish statements from human rights organizations and diasporas calling on the US to “prioritize human rights in contacts with the Saudi leadership,” as in the joint human rights groups’ statement published by Human Rights Watch, naming specific people stuck under travel bans; on the other hand, official Saudi rhetoric stresses that security, the fight against terrorism, economic modernization and regional deals (from the Yemeni settlement to energy initiatives) are impossible without close coordination with the US. In this view, Washington is both an indispensable provider of guarantees and technologies and a partner that increasingly, under pressure from its own Congress and NGOs, raises topics awkward for the kingdom.

Saudi political commentators point out that the American domestic scene directly affects the style of dialogue: the Biden administration tried to “balance” the legacy of a period of close personal ties between the White House and the crown prince, as recalled, for example, by Arabic retransmissions of Wall Street Journal material, noting that Washington is seeking a “new balance” between criticism and preserving a 76‑year strategic partnership. Against this background, Saudi columnists often interpret harsh statements by congressmen and human rights advocates more as elements of American domestic politics than as signals of a real readiness to radically revise the alliance; this helps explain why analyses aimed at a Saudi audience describe the US as a country of “many voices,” among which the voices of the State Department and the Pentagon often carry more weight than that of the human rights coalition.

If for the Arab world the US is primarily a forceful and diplomatic actor in the Middle East, in Germany attention is focused on another plane — the economic and technological. The German business press, commenting on a fresh IMF forecast, emphasizes a divergence: against global growth of about 3.3% in 2026, the American economy, thanks to massive investments in artificial intelligence and high tech, is accelerating to roughly 2.4%, while Germany is stuck at just above 1%. An analytical article in Die Welt bluntly states that the US, alongside Asian economies, is “capitalizing on a technological leap,” whereas the German economy “loses pace due to outdated infrastructure, labor shortages and prolonged digital backwardness.” The authors make a painful comparison: global tech giants dominate in the United States, monetizing AI and platform solutions, while Germany has few companies of comparable scale, and the regulatory and tax environment is often perceived by business as a brake.

At the same time, in German conservative and liberal outlets the US also appears as a dangerous protectionist. The tightening of American trade measures, especially under the influence of Donald Trump’s rhetoric, became a subject of sharp criticism after reports that German exports to the United States fell by almost 10% in 2025. Die Welt and other media note that the auto industry was hit particularly hard: exports of cars from Germany to the US dropped by more than 17%, and new import tariffs on a range of European goods — initially 10%, with a prospect of rising to 25% — are presented as a signal of further escalation of a trade war. Expert commentary reveals a specific German paradox: the US is described simultaneously as an “indispensable market and a key security partner” and as an actor whose domestic political logic — from promises to “bring back jobs” to demonstrative clashes with the EU over, for example, Greenland or NATO defense spending — transforms the traditional transatlantic consensus into a series of crises.

Notably, even cultural figures in Germany, like musician Wolfgang Niedecken, speak in interviews with regional media of the US as a country whose image has become “more contradictory than ever before”: on the one hand, gratitude for liberation from Nazism and admiration for musical and cinematic culture; on the other, irritation at military interventions and the new unpredictability of White House policies. That duality — respect for American cultural influence and distrust of Washington’s political decisions — is typical of many German commentaries.

The Brazilian conversation about America is also far from one‑dimensional. Against the backdrop of the Middle Eastern agenda, in Brazil the US is often viewed through the lens of its own experience of dependence on global financial flows and commodity exports. Leftist economists in columns for outlets like Brasil de Fato or opinion sections of Folha de S. Paulo compare America’s ability to “inject trillions” into high‑tech sectors with the limited maneuvering room of developing economies and point out that a new wave of American protectionism and high Federal Reserve rates is intensifying capital outflows from the Global South. In this context, criticism of American eastern foreign policy easily overlays distrust of an economic architecture centered between Washington and New York.

An interesting detail of the Brazilian debate is the tendency to see the US not only as a hegemon but also as a political mirror. Commentators compare the popularity of right‑wing and far‑right forces in Europe and the US, drawing on new comparative studies of media agendas in the EU that show how radical right rhetoric often receives disproportionate media attention; in this light, Trump and European right‑wing populists are perceived as parts of the same phenomenon, with America not an exception but an extreme example of the same trends. For a Brazilian audience that experienced the rise and fall of Bolsonaroism, this is an especially sensitive issue: the American example serves both as a warning and as a justification for local anxieties.

In the Gulf countries another line of discussion comes to the fore — American visa and migration regimes. Arab surveys of the global press, published for example by Egypt’s Youm7, often cite European and American sources discussing new US entry restrictions, tightened checks for certain categories of citizens and the link between these measures and security for the upcoming 2026 FIFA World Cup in North America. For a Saudi audience this story is twofold: on the one hand, elites and the middle class are tightly connected to the United States through education, investment and medical tourism; on the other hand, the very idea that access to the “American dream” could be limited by political fluctuations in Washington increases interest in alternatives — from Europe to Asian destinations.

As a result, three different but overlapping images of America are taking shape in Brazil, Germany and Saudi Arabia. For Brazil’s progressive milieu the US is above all a great manipulator of the global stage, able to turn war and peace into electoral points, and at the same time the architect of a financial system that makes Global South countries vulnerable to decisions by the Fed and the White House. For Germany, America is both the engine of the world economy, an AI technology laboratory and an unpleasant competitor ready at any moment to overreach with protectionism, as well as a political ally whose unpredictability and isolationist impulses sometimes frighten as much as external threats.

For Saudi Arabia the United States is a security guarantor and the main military and technological partner, while also a source of constant moral pressure on human rights and democracy, and a country where many centers of influence — from Congress to human rights defenders — compete to define what this multilayered “strategic friendship” should look like. The common denominator for all three countries is one: no one any longer perceives American leadership as an indisputable given. In São Paulo, in Berlin and in Riyadh the US is seen as a powerful but increasingly contentious player whose internal debates and electoral cycles directly rewrite the rules of the game for the rest of the world.

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Trump returns, the alliance tightens, the Global South is angry: how the US looks from Seoul, Moscow and...

The most prominent focus of discussions about the United States in South Korea, Russia and South Africa today is not the abstract "Washington," but a very concrete second term of Donald Trump and the avalanche of his decisions: tariffs, the boycott of the G20 summit in South Africa, sharp pressure on allies and simultaneous escalation on fronts from Ukraine to the Persian Gulf. Thousands of kilometers away, very different countries are trying to answer the same question: do the United States remain a predictable pillar of the world order, or are they becoming a source of strategic turbulence that others must insure themselves against?

Three overlapping storylines crystallize around this. In East Asia, South Korean commentators debate the cost of an even closer military alliance with the US against the backdrop of a tariff war and growing Washington demands for a "fair burden‑share." In Russia, a second Trump administration is seen as a combination of the old confrontation with the US and a new, more chaotic phase of American policy, in which Moscow remains a chief adversary but is no longer the sole focus. And in South Africa, criticism of the US fuses displeasure with sanction pressure, interference in regional affairs and Trump's rhetoric about a "white genocide," which local elites call a mixture of myth and political calculation.

The first major knot is a new turn of "America First" policy and its very concrete consequences for allies and opponents. In Seoul, South Korean outlets and analytical platforms discuss two lines at once: a sharp rise in defense commitments to the US and, in parallel, Washington's trade‑tariff war against key exporters from the ROK. The chronology of recent months looks to the local audience like an accumulating compromise: to preserve a strategic "nuclear umbrella" and US political patronage amid threats from North Korea and China, Seoul agrees to increasingly heavy economic and fiscal concessions.

A joint fact sheet by US and South Korean leaders, published in November, recorded not only general words about "modernizing the alliance" but also unprecedented figures: Seoul pledged to raise its defense budget to 3.5% of GDP as soon as possible, to contract $25 billion in purchases of US weapons and to provide $33 billion in "comprehensive support" for US forces stationed in the country over ten years. The English‑language Korean outlet MK writes about this in detail, emphasizing that this means a doubling of military spending from the current level of 2.32% of GDP. In monetary terms, this implies a jump from roughly 61 trillion won to more than 128 trillion won by the middle of the next decade if the economy grows at the forecast 3.4% per year. MK directly links these agreements to an "epochal" strengthening of South Korea's military role in the region and to the fact that the US effectively delegates to Seoul part of the functions for containing the DPRK and China — but the price is a heavy fiscal burden and significant dependence on American military supplies. The same linkage of "strategic reinforcement — fiscal risk" is analyzed in Korea Pro, where author John Lee warns that trying to please Washington may clash with domestic social needs in an aging society that requires not only rockets but pensions, healthcare and support for young families. It is in this context that the phrase about a "growing risk of deepening the alliance with the US at the cost of tightened budget constraints" appears.

At the same time, across the Atlantic the Trump administration is attacking one of the key pillars of South Korea's economic success — exports. In the chronology compiled by the Council on Foreign Relations (CFR), which tracks the evolution of US‑Korean relations, the leitmotif of the last year and a half is increasing White House pressure on trading partners. As early as 2025, Trump announced plans to impose a 10% "universal" tariff on imports plus a 25% additional levy on goods from South Korea, which in Seoul is perceived as an overt use of an ally as a target to please a domestic electorate. South Korea's economic team, responding to the tariff blow, tried to compensate by promising multibillion‑dollar investments in the US — according to the English‑language chronology of KORUS agreements, Seoul agreed to a 15% rate tied to an investment package of $350 billion into the American economy. The Korean press calls this "redemption by ransom": the country pays a double price — tariff and investment — to soften the blow to auto and steel industries that depend on access to the US market.

This double pressure — military and economic — creates notable skepticism in the ROK about Washington's motivations. According to recent data cited by the English page on US‑Korea relations: 61% of South Koreans still view the US positively overall, but two‑thirds express distrust of Trump personally, and nearly 66% agree with the statement that "the United States does not take South Korea's interests into account." For part of society the US remains "the most favorably perceived country in the world," as earlier Gallup Korea polls recorded, but the specific policies of the current administration provoke irritation, especially when the discussion turns to "fair burden‑sharing" and who benefits from high tariffs and arms contracts.

The second major storyline, present in Korean, Russian and South African discussions, is about whether the United States can still play the role of "world policeman" and security guarantor. From Moscow one of the harshest voices is heard. On the Russian Russian‑language media field — from RT to RBC — the dominant portrayal is of the US as a force consciously dismantling prior arrangements with Russia and NATO and using the war in Ukraine as an instrument to suppress Russia. An RT piece titled "Doesn't care about the opinions of other countries: how the US tries to shirk responsibility for the collapse of relations with Russia" is typical: it quotes State Department spokesman Ned Price, who after the start of the special operation said that maintaining the previous status quo with Moscow "is out of the question," while also insisting that dialogue "is possible." The Russian side, through Foreign Ministry spokeswoman Maria Zakharova, responds by accusing the US of trying to shift responsibility for the breakdown of relations onto Moscow and of disregarding other countries' interests. For a Russian audience this fits into a broader narrative: the way the US treats Russia is only a particular case of Washington's overall contempt for alternative centers of power.

The same motif appears — albeit in a very different tone — in South African debate about the US role in world politics. Here the US is criticized not as an "empire of NATO" but as a power that, under slogans of human rights and "the war on terror," intervenes in the sovereign policies of Global South countries. The culmination was Trump's announced boycott of the G20 summit in South Africa and his repeated posts on Truth Social that "no US government representative will attend, while human rights violations continue" against white Afrikaners and alleged mass land expropriation. This was reported in a constellation of Russian‑ and English‑language outlets, from the Ukrainian agency UNN to RT and Turkish Anadolu. These publications emphasize that Trump not only refuses to go to Johannesburg himself, but also calls to expel South Africa from the "Group of Twenty," calling what is happening in the country "a communist tyranny" and "the killing of Afrikaners."

In response, South Africa's Foreign Ministry published an official statement calling the US decision "regrettable" and rejecting the thesis of a systematic racial genocide of whites. Afrikaner groups within South Africa react more complexly: some conservative organizations welcome Washington's attention to their problems, but a significant portion of the Afrikaner business elite is concerned that the country is becoming a battlefield for other people's narratives while real economic and social conditions are ignored. Layered on this is another emotionally charged Washington decision — Trump's order to stop all financial aid to South Africa, which he justifies by "gross human rights violations" and "land confiscation"; according to the US government, in 2023 alone assistance to South Africa exceeded $440 million. South African commentators in Mail & Guardian and Daily Maverick see this as a deliberate punishment for Pretoria's attempts to pursue a more independent foreign policy within BRICS, not as a sincere concern for minority rights.

Against this backdrop tensions around military exercises off the South African coast are also rising. Recent maneuvers organized under the BRICS format with participation from the navies of Russia, China, Iran, the UAE and South Africa provoked a harsh US reaction: the American embassy in Pretoria criticized the inclusion of Iranian ships in the exercises, citing mass human rights violations in Iran, and questioned whether South African military officials had followed President Ramaphosa's instructions to limit Tehran's participation to observer status. As Associated Press notes, for the US these maneuvers look like an attempt by BRICS countries to give the bloc a quasi‑military character, while for South Africans they are a test of how far multivector engagement can go without losing the remaining cooperation with Washington. South Africa's Foreign Ministry in its statement stresses that the country remains "committed to diplomatic resolution of any misunderstandings" while simultaneously defending the right to military cooperation with whom it deems appropriate.

The third dimension of debates about the US is the struggle for leadership in the Global South and how Washington competes with China and other centers of power. From Seoul this storyline is seen primarily through the prism of the US–China–ROK triangle and the broader US‑Japan‑Korea format. The mere existence of an American‑Japanese‑Korean pact, formalized back in 2023 at the Camp David meeting, is perceived ambivalently in Seoul. On one hand, it strengthens security amid growing cooperation among Moscow, Pyongyang and Beijing; on the other, it places South Korea in an uncomfortable position between its largest trading partner China and its main military ally the US. Recent coverage by AP of President Lee Jae‑myung's visit to Nara and his meeting with Japanese Prime Minister Suga Takaichi emphasized the need to stick together in the face of "intensifying US‑China competition." In this connection, South Korean media cautiously speak of the return of a Cold War logic in which Seoul is required to make an increasingly clear choice — even at the cost of strained relations with Beijing.

In Africa the US‑China competition shows up differently. A recent Washington Post analysis of how China "senses opportunity" amid aggressive US actions toward Venezuela and Iran vividly describes a change of roles in the eyes of many Global South countries: Beijing positions itself as a "stabilizing and reliable power" offering dialogue and avoidance of force, while Washington in the Trump era more often speaks the language of sanctions, special operations and threats. This resonates with Pretoria's rhetoric about BRICS as a platform for "reforming global governance," where the US is perceived not as an unquestioned leader but as a party abusing its position. It's no accident that South African diplomacy, even under intense American criticism, continues to deepen participation in BRICS initiatives and cooperation with China under the Belt and Road framework, and that naval exercises with Moscow and Beijing are framed as "maritime security" projects, even though Washington views them as demonstrations of force against the US.

The Russian perspective casts this picture even more radically. In the Russian discourse BRICS is often presented as an "anti‑Western alternative," and any significant rift between the US and key Global South countries — from India to South Africa — is interpreted as proof of the "inevitable decline" of American hegemony. Publications like an RBC note on how the EU "outplayed" the US by "saving" Ukraine from an unfavorable peace plan by Trump illustrate another line: even among Western allies it is Washington that becomes the source of instability, while Brussels, according to these texts, is forced to "correct" American initiatives so they align with Kyiv's interests. For a Russian audience this conveniently reinforces the thesis that the US is no longer capable of being the "collective West" and imposing a single line on everyone.

The unifying motif across all three countries — and perhaps the main conclusion — is less antipathy toward the United States as such than fatigue and irritation with its unpredictability. In South Korea the US still remains the most important ally and security guarantor, but these words increasingly come with the caveat: "unless another radical America First course wins in Washington." In Russia the US continues to play the role of principal adversary and symbol of the "unipolar world," but there is a growing sense that for the White House Moscow is only one of many fronts and that tomorrow the focus could shift to China or Iran. In South Africa the US is still perceived by inertia as an important economic partner and source of investment, but every new Trump statement about a "white genocide" or "communist tyranny" pushes elites and society to seek alternatives — from BRICS to Chinese loans and regional coalitions.

It is in these local moods — Korean anxiety about the cost of the alliance, a Russian conviction of American irresponsibility, South African irritation at double standards — that a new perception of the US is forming: a power that still must be reckoned with, but one that cannot be relied upon unconditionally. For some this means deeper military integration to at least partially control Washington's behavior from within. For others it means building parallel ties with China, BRICS and regional blocs to have an exit in case of another American pivot. In Seoul, Moscow and Pretoria the central question is no longer simply for or against America, but a more pragmatic one: how to live in a world where the United States remain a superpower but are no longer a reliable anchor of the world order.

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How the World Sees Trump's Second America: Brazil, Japan and Israel

The return of Donald Trump to the White House and the first steps of his second administration have triggered a new wave of debates about America — from São Paulo to Tokyo and Tel Aviv. The focus is not only on the personality of the U.S. president, but on how "Trump's second America" breaks international rules, reshapes trade, alters the security architecture and influences domestic debates in other countries. While within the United States there is dispute over democracy, migrants and "affordability of life," abroad the primary concern is how Washington's new policies will affect their economies, security and regional balance of power.

The first significant layer of discussions is linked to the U.S. turn away from multilateral institutions. Japanese analysts dissect in detail Trump’s unprecedented January 7, 2026 decree withdrawing the U.S. from 66 international organizations and treaties at once, including U.N. bodies and the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change. In the business outlet Tsugino Jidai they explain that this is a logical continuation of the MAGA-2 course: replacing "international rules" with a purely transactional logic of deals, where Washington uses the weight of the dollar and the market as leverage. The review's author states plainly: this is the "U.S. departure from coordination through rules to unilateral use of tariffs and sanctions as instruments of deals," and ponders the consequences for Japanese companies — from ESG standards to access to financing from multilateral development banks. In a popularized take for a broad audience, Asahi Shimbun emphasizes that even within the United States the question arises: can the president unilaterally terminate such treaties without Congressional approval? — thus Japanese press cautiously signals the legal and political fragility of Washington's new course.

The Brazilian agenda is different: local columnists and international commentators connect the American move with a weakening of the global climate agenda, which is critically important for the Amazon and agricultural exports. In pieces in the vein of Maria Silva’s column in Folha de S.Paulo it is emphasized that the U.S. withdrawal from climate architectures undermines the negotiating positions of southern countries: without Washington’s participation, carbon credit markets and climate finance risk becoming a "club of northern countries," where the Global South will again act as a supplier of raw materials rather than an equal partner. Journalists remind readers that Brazil is caught between two fires: on one side, EU pressure over "green" standards; on the other, the United States withdrawing from climate regimes while simultaneously using them as tools of trade pressure.

In Israel, the U.S. pullout from multilateral institutions is viewed primarily through the lens of security and the legitimacy of American power. In analysis around the June U.S. strikes on Iran’s nuclear infrastructure, extensively covered by Israeli media, CNN commentator Stephen Collinson — quoted in a Ynet piece — described the strikes as a moment when "Iran’s power was castrated and U.S. might rose to new heights," but he immediately warned: if Iran’s program ultimately survives, Trump could put "the U.S. and the whole world on a destructive path." Israeli analysts extend the thought — in Haaretz and Ynet they discuss that Washington’s rejection of international arms-control frameworks turns American power into something more autonomous but also more unpredictable, including for allies. In this context, the importance of multilateral institutions is debated not as an abstract liberal ideal but as a mechanism that limited spikes of risk in the Middle East.

The second major node of international reactions is "Trump’s obsession with tariffs," as Israeli economic commentator Sever Plotker bluntly calls it in a Ynet article titled "The U.S. Will Pay for Trump’s Tariff Obsession." He points out that the new tariffs — 25% on imports from Canada and Mexico and 10% on China — are in reality not paid by foreign governments but by the American consumer: he estimates this could add more than $3,300 a year to the expenses of the average family and drive inflation to 3.5–4%. In his view, Trump is mistaken three times: first, about who pays tariffs; second, that they will substantially fill the treasury; third, in believing that protectionism will strengthen the U.S. economy. For Israel this debate is not theoretical: local exporters have already faced an increase in the baseline U.S. tariff rate to 17%, later partially softened to 15% after difficult negotiations that the Israeli press described as a painful but beneficial compromise that temporarily protected key industries.

Japanese business media view the same tariffs from a completely different angle — as a structural risk to supply chains in Asia. Tsugino Jidai analyzes in detail the "Trump tariffs" on timber and furniture: since 2025 additional 10% tariffs were imposed on imports of softwood lumber and 25% on certain wood products, and from January 1, 2026 rates on some items will rise to 30% and even 50%. However, following negotiations with allies, the U.S. agreed to limit the aggregate tariff on imports of these goods from Japan and the EU to a 15% "ceiling" cap. Japanese commentators note that, on the one hand, the agreement cements Tokyo’s special status as a priority Washington partner, and on the other forces Japanese businesses to build long-term strategies based on the reality of constant tariff turbulence. In a series of analytical pieces on geo-economic risks for 2026, authors on the same platform emphasize that "Trump’s second administration has turned tariffs and rare-earth restrictions into everyday foreign-policy tools," and they predict that in 2026 the balance in Japanese corporate strategy between "cost" and "supply security" will finally shift in favor of the latter.

The Brazilian perspective is more politicized and tied to domestic debates about the development model: in columns in Folha de S.Paulo and Estadão economists argue whether Brazil should respond symmetrically to American protectionism. Some draw parallels between Trump’s tariffs and historical protectionist waves in Latin America, warning of a risk of "returning to the 1930s" with falling competition and rising corruption in state companies. Others, by contrast, see hard tariff policies as an opportunity for Southern countries to reassess what they view as unfair WTO rules and to build more favorable value chains — but only if Brazil does not remain a passive object of American tariff warfare and instead becomes an active player, forging alternative coalitions with the EU, China and Africa.

The third line of discussion running through Tokyo and Tel Aviv is U.S. strategic unpredictability on security issues, primarily regarding China and Taiwan. Japanese analysis frequently features the "Taiwan scenario" and how the new administration in Washington might respond to a crisis. Political scientist Taiga Wada, writing for Tsugino Jidai, discusses the "opacity of Trump’s Taiwan policy" and notes that amid tough rhetoric toward China (tariffs, sanctions, export controls) it remains unclear whether Washington is prepared to take real military risks to defend the island. He recalls joint Japan-U.S. statements that mention Taiwan but stresses that Japanese business and government need to plan for the worst-case scenario: "The uncertainty of the world’s most powerful state is also a risk, and Japanese companies must prepare for it."

Israel views the same unpredictability through the prism of Iran and Gaza. After the summer U.S. strikes on Iran’s nuclear infrastructure in 2025, the Israeli press described Trump as a leader who "changed the Middle East with one strike" — possibly removing the threat of Israel’s nuclear annihilation but at the same time bringing the region closer to full-scale war if Tehran decides to retaliate against American or Israeli targets. A Ynet commentator quotes Collinson: "The summer night of mid-June 2025 may go down in history as the day the Middle East changed forever," but adds: "the risks to Israel are greater the fewer international frameworks tie down America." Against this backdrop, Trump’s own statement that he will "reveal the composition of the Peace Council for Gaza" in early 2026 — a body he said would include "kings, presidents and prime ministers" — is met in Israel with a notable degree of skepticism. A Ynet piece notes that "everyone wants to be there," according to Trump, but Israeli commentators wonder: what real powers will such a council have and won’t it simply become a decorative showcase for Washington’s unilateral decisions?

The fourth common theme is the impact of American policy on domestic socio-economic debates abroad. In Israel there has been wide resonance around a detailed analysis of "how Trump changed America in a year and what his new goal is," where Ynet states that 2025 was the worst year for the U.S. labor market since 2003 (excluding recession years), and by early 2026 medical insurance premiums "soared into the heavens" after Trump and Republicans in Congress refused to extend the Obamacare subsidies that had helped 30 million Americans obtain coverage. The author notes that the word affordability has become one of the key terms in American politics in 2025 and has already entered the Israeli agenda as a marker of middle-class crisis in Western countries. A separate block of analysis is devoted to migration policy: mass deportations alongside a record low in illegal crossings at the southern border are seen as evidence that Trump fulfilled his hard-line promise — but at the cost of gross human-rights violations, including the detention of U.S.-citizen children. For Israeli readers this serves both as a window into American reality and as a mirror for their own debates about migrant rights and the Arab minority.

In Brazil the social aspect of American changes is reflected through the lens of inequality and "cracks" in American democracy. Center-left authors in Folha de S.Paulo compare the Republican tax reform, which delivers the greatest benefits to the wealthiest layers, with historical projects of Brazilian governments when fiscal policy increased income concentration and spawned political radicalism. On the pages of cultural and political magazines, interest is growing in American debates about racial inequality and voting rights: Trump’s utterances, such as that "in four years you won’t have to vote — we will fix everything so well that elections won’t be needed," which in the West are criticized as hints at undermining democracy, are often viewed in Brazil as a warning: "if America flirts with authoritarianism, then our institutions could be much weaker than they seem."

Japan reacts more restrainedly in socio-political terms, but American domestic politics still becomes a factor in discussion there. In financial analysis for Ynet aimed at international investors, Israeli expert Nir Michael Maimon notes that if Trump intensifies pressure on the Federal Reserve — up to replacing its chair in 2026 — and insists on sharp rate cuts, this will lead to a cheaper dollar and higher commodity prices. For Japan, where the Bank of Japan has already begun a cycle of rate increases, such fluctuations in the U.S. mean a difficult choice: either follow the Fed and risk domestic financial stability, or stand aside, in which case the yen would become an even more attractive safe-haven currency, hurting exports. Here, the American domestic political struggle for control over institutions (the Fed, courts, the electoral system) acquires international significance — not as an abstract debate about democracy but as a question about global liquidity parameters and borrowing costs.

Finally, everywhere — from Rio to Jerusalem and Tokyo — people debate the trajectory of American democracy under Trump. Israeli liberal commentators react particularly sharply to his phrase addressed to a religious audience that "if you go out and vote now, you won’t have to do it again — we will fix everything so that elections are no longer needed." Ynet interprets this as a symbolic "cancellation of the 2028 elections" and a potential threat to the democratic order. Against this background, Trump’s decision to end extended protection for his former rival Kamala Harris, which Biden had extended through January 2026, is described as an act of political revenge and a signal to all future opponents: personal loyalty can influence even basic security matters.

In Brazil such gestures are seen as further confirmation of a trend well known to Latin Americans: a president turning the state apparatus into an instrument of personal retribution. Brazilian commentators draw direct parallels between Trump’s rhetoric and the practices of local populists, warning that the "Americanization" of political conflict in Brazil — with a cult of the leader, total media polarization and delegitimization of elections — carries far more risks than benefits. In Japan, by contrast, fear of such politicization of institutions has sparked debate about the need to strengthen domestic checks and balances so that Japanese foreign and economic policy do not become hostage to Washington’s swings.

Taken together, the international picture is far more complex than the simplified image of "the world against Trump" or, conversely, "the world adjusting to the new America." Brazil reads the U.S. through the prism of a struggle between climate responsibility and a raw-material model; Japan sees it as a source of geo-economic and military risks requiring technocratic adaptation; Israel views it simultaneously as an indispensable security guarantor and a potential source of regional instability and democratic backsliding. What becomes common is this: everywhere America is ceasing to be perceived as a stable anchor of the international order and is increasingly described as a variable with high volatility. And that, perhaps, is the main shift in how the world today talks about the "American factor": not as an axis around which the system is built, but as a powerful yet unpredictable player that must be adapted to — and defended against — economically, politically and institutionally.

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